Saturday, December 29, 2012

The Unopened Gift

Remember the last time you received a gift-wrapped package from someone?  Picture the box, wrapped in iridescent white paper, and tied with a beautiful bow. When you were handed this gift,what did you do?  Did you open it immediately, eager to see what was inside?  Did you want to
personally thank the one who gave you such a gift?  I suspect that most would open the gift right away so the giver of the gift could see the pleasure on your face as you received this present. But did you ever take a beautifully gift-wrapped package, put it on a shelf or in the closet, and leave it there unopened?  I can’t imagine doing such a thing, can you?

After you gave a gift to a loved one, would you be offended if that person never opened it?  Would it bother you if you paid a good deal of money to purchase this gift, only to have it sit, unopened, on the shelf?  Or what if you hand-made a gift, and spent countless hours laboring, in love, to create something special?  Would you be upset if the recipient of this gift didn’t even open it?

The one who longs to give us good gifts is God, our heavenly father. We are quickly able to receive His gifts of love and peace. We may at times neglect to use these gifts, but we have opened them and have expressed our gratitude to God for His generosity.

There is one gift from God, however, that we often find difficult to open:  the gift of forgiveness. Psalm 86:5 (NKJ) says, “For You, Lord, are good, and ready to forgive, and abundant in mercy to all those who call upon You.”  Unfortunately, many of us believe that our sins are just too terrible, so we cling to them. We know God forgives sins, but He surely won’t forgive this?   We just can’t force ourselves to untie the bow and tear open the paper to receive the gift of forgiveness. Sometimes the problem is that we can’t forgive ourselves. “How could I have ever done that horrible thing?” we might wonder, and the beautifully wrapped package stays on the shelf, untouched.

God paid a great deal to give each of us this gift of forgiveness. He spent a great deal of time laboring on this gift as well, thirty-three years, as a matter of fact. For thirty-three years God’s son lived as a man on this earth, away from His home in heaven. That’s a long time to work on a gift of love. And He paid a high cost for this gift, too: He paid with His life. Don’t you think He would want us to open this gift?

Father God, forgive me. Forgive my many sins, both those I have recently committed and those of long ago that I harbor in my heart. Help me accept Your gift, wrapped in love and the sacrifice of Your son. Help me take it off the shelf, unwrap it and accept the forgiveness inside.

I John 1: 8-9 “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is
not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and
purify us from all unrighteousness.”

Monday, December 24, 2012

Is There Room at the Inn?

For several weeks now I’ve been busily preparing for the holidays. The house is decked out in its Christmas finery: the tree is lit, garlands cover the stairway and windows, and angels and nativities adorn the tabletops.  Holiday meals are cooked, ready to be eaten, and the pantry is stocked. Lots of high calorie treats wait for children and grandchildren to indulge. Gifts, wrapped in red, blue, and green, sit under the tree, waiting to be opened and enjoyed. After all the hard work and preparations, I’m finally ready for Christmas! Now all I have to do is wait for loved ones to arrive and the celebrating will begin!

While I’ve worked, preparing for the holidays, my mind has wondered about the preparations Mary must have made. Like all pregnant women, she must have made special plans to prepare for the birth of the wee one in her womb. Since Joseph was a skilled carpenter, Mary surely asked him to make a lovely cradle for her soon-to-be-born infant. She must have arranged for her mother and at least one other woman to assist with the birth.

I wonder how the trip to Bethlehem impacted her plans. Did it make her fret and worry? Did she cry, thinking she might have her child while on the trip? Or did she calmly prepare, trusting in God to provide? Did she pack some food for the trip? Perhaps she prepared some bread, dried fish, and some dates and figs for their journey. Surely she carried some swaddling clothes, anticipating the birth of her child.

In spite of her preparations, Mary surely wasn’t prepared when she went into labor in a town so far from home. Did she cry for her mother? Was she frightened when they could not find a room at an inn? In spite of her plans and preparations, this baby was coming! In a quiet corner of a little village, in the company of stable animals, Mary gave birth. Surely this birth didn’t happen the way she had planned. But the birth of the Son of the living God as a tiny, helpless infant happened precisely the way God planned.
 
In spite of any of Mary’s preparations, because there was no room at the inn, Mary’s baby was born in a humble stable. I suppose the real question isn’t how Mary planned and prepared for the birth of her son.  Here is the question: as I make my human preparations to celebrate the Savior’s birth, have I left room for Him in my inn?  

Ephesians 3:16, 17a "I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strenghthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith."

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Skeletons in the Bathroom

Gaunt and bare, like skeletons stripped of their flesh, they stand. High on the top shelf in the bathroom, squeezed almost dry, the tubes of lotion call to me. Each stands nearly empty: the lotion within, too precious to throw away. Yet, in my rush to lather on the lotion and hurry out the door, I don’t take time to squeeze out the last of it. So I use a new tube, and remind myself that I must later take time to squeeze the lotion from each of the nearly empty tubes. Maybe over the weekend I can find some extra time to use the lotion left in these tubes. But I get busy, I forget, and they stand as reminders of what I need to do. Today is Saturday, and the day is young. This morning I will find time to use the leftover lotion, and then I can, in good conscience, throw the empty tube in the trash. I need to do this so I can clear some space on the top shelf. 

Hmm, now that I think about it, doesn’t my soul need a little squeezing too? Perhaps I need to devote more time to my soul, squeezing out all of God’s wisdom and blessings, daily covering myself with the lotion of God’s love. Then I can throw out the empty, lifeless areas of my life that are not pleasing to God and clear more space for Him on my top shelf.

Father God, help me to place you always on the top shelf of my life so that my spiritual life will not be bare bones, but instead be vibrantly alive.

Psalm 26:6 “Test me O Lord, and try me, examine my heart and my mind; for your love is ever before me, and I walk continually in your truth.”

Monday, November 12, 2012

The Physician's Advice

Recently, I had an MRI.  As I lay inside the narrow cylinder, the machine whirred, clanked and peered deep inside my body.  It didn’t care how I appeared on the outside, only on the inside.   After the doctor reads the MRI, he will decide on an appropriate course of action to make me whole again.  It’s up to me to follow the doctor’s orders. 

Just as the doctor looks within the body in order to heal, so God looks deep within his loved ones for diagnosis and healing.  The great Physician doesn’t care how we appear on the outside; his only concern is those sins entrenched in the soul.  God sees deep inside, understanding all our thoughts and sins. 

Once God informs us what sin lies within, he gives us specific actions to remedy our spiritual ailments.  Forgiveness is a common prescription, as is repentance.  Instead of bed rest, the patient may need quiet time alone with God, in His word and in prayer.  Whatever spiritual ailments we possess, God provides the cure.  It is up to us to take our prescriptions and follow his bidding.

Master physician, as you look deep within my soul, keep my mind and heart willing to follow your spiritual advice.

Psalm 139:1 "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me."

Monday, November 5, 2012

Flowing Over the Obstacles


The stream meanders, making its lazy way through piles of fallen leaves, gray, barren trees, and rich, fertile earth.  My feet crunch the brown, yellow, red, and rust colored leaves as I walk closer to the little stream. Bending and twisting, it flows around the rocks and under the narrow walking bridge. Algae flourishes just beneath its surface, giving this little stream its green color.

 I find a flat rock near the edge of the stream where I can sit and enjoy its simple beauty. From my vantage point a few feet above the stream, I can observe its meandering path. As it flows from one bend to another, the lazy waters flow silently, peacefully, unimpeded.

 As I scan the length of the stream from my rocky perch, I notice how the water changes when it hits an obstacle: a rock, a fallen tree limb, or a constricted pathway. Then the smooth flow changes. The water roils, bubbling up out of its bed, falling back again, leaving a visible trail.

Even more important than the changed look of the stream is its changed sound. It flows ever so quietly until it hits one of those obstacles. It’s then that the silent stream gurgles. You know, that musical, joyful gurgling sound that water makes. Hmm…where the path is free and easy, the water flows silently. It’s only when obstacles lie in its path that the water sings.

How often I find myself complaining instead of singing when difficulties snag my way.

Lord, when the way proves tough, give me a song to sing.

Isaiah 49:13 “Shout for joy, O heavens; rejoice, O earth, burst into song, O mountains! For the LORD comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.”

Thursday, November 1, 2012

The Light of the World


Isaiah 60:1-3 Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.  See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you.  Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

 

The Light of the World

 

Light—it is available at the flip of a switch.  Even in the darkness of night, we can light a room, an entire building, or the outdoors as brightly as daylight.  We have lights in every room, on nearly every street corner, and even our highways.  Businesses are brightly lit, even when closed; neon lights beckon us to shop, eat, repair, and relax. You name it, we light it.  With all of this electric light, do you think it strange that candles are so popular?  Didn’t they, after all, become obsolete when Edison invented the electric light?  A candle gives only a faint glow in a darkened room, not enough to clearly see across the room, nor to easily read.  Curious, isn’t it?  Today, when we light the whole world with electricity, candlelight is popular.

God’s Holy Word is filled with imagery of light.  When God created the world, He said, Let there be light and there was light.  In John 1:4&5, Jesus is referred to as light.  In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.  And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. There were no electric lights when Jesus walked on earth, but the impact of His life was electric!  People flocked from miles around to see Him, to hear Him speak, and to witness His miracles.  The religious leaders were so intimidated, they conspired to put Him to death.  Their intent was to extinguish Jesus’ light.  For three days it appeared His light had been extinguished.

Jesus Christ came to light the darkness: the darkness of evil, the darkness of ignorance of His saving power.  He accomplished this by being born as a human, by dying at the hands of men, being raised from the dead and ascending to heaven.  After He ascended, what happened to His light on earth?  His spirit came to kindle a light in each of us.  Matthew wrote the following about the believers in Christ:  You are the light of the world….  Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven (5:14a &16 NKJ). 

Frequently, I have been the recipient of good works.  When my children were small, my husband and I were young and poor.  Others shed their lights on us in many ways:   gifts of food, money, hand-me-down clothing, time and assistance.  While each gift was small, together they dispelled the darkness of doubt, poverty, and fatigue.  More importantly, by reflecting God’s love, each giver revealed to us more of God’s light.  Over the years I have realized this: In sharing God’s light, I can chase away dark times for others by speaking kind words, sharing my time, and giving my money generously. 

God asks me to light the world so that they may see [my] good works and glorify [my] Father in heaven.  Now I don’t know about your light, but I know that my light is not electric!  My light is feeble, and at times it barely flickers.  I don’t have thousands of dollars to share, but I can share what I do have.  I don’t speak before millions on television, enlightening lives with Christ’s gospel.  Instead, my light is like one solitary candle, providing soft illumination.  When those who experience my small glow inquire about its source, I can fill their hearts with the lights of salvation and abundant life. 

Picture a room with one small candle burning.  Vision is difficult; there is more darkness and shadow than light.  But what if a second candle is lit? What if your little light joins with mine?  What if others, one by one, add their own little glow to our lights?  What if all Christians make a conscious decision to let the light of Christ shine through them so others will glorify Him?  Individually, we do not electrify the world, but together, our cumulative little lights chase away the darkness.  Soon we clearly see across a once dark room.  Soon the shadows flee; soon the light overcomes the darkness.  When, together, we let the light of Jesus shine through us, we create light enough for all to see God’s glory.  This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…won’t you shine with me?

Lord of light, remind me that my little light enables others to glimpse your glory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The Winner!

Last year, I had the privilege of helping judge the regional Poetry Out Loud competition.  In this competition high school students memorize three poems which they recite to the judges and the audience of friends, parents, and teachers.  Their recitation is judged by how well they convey the meaning of the poem through their voices, facial expressions, and gestures.  This year’s competitors were quite talented and well prepared.  With 150 points available, only a few points separated the top three, with two of them tied.  All were excellent and deserved to win, but only one person could win and move on to the state competition; therefore, it was quite difficult to announce only one winner. 

Fortunately for us, God has many winners.  When we put our trust in Him and obediently follow His will in our lives, we are all winners.  No one is better than another; all are forgiven by His grace.

Gracious, loving God, even though we are all sinners, Your grace has made us winners in Your sight.  Thank you for this amazing gift. 

Friday, August 24, 2012

Rivers of Peace

           In a world torn by conflicts and war, people seek peace.  Many mourn the lack of peace and grieve over violence.  Others question why war exists; hasn’t God has promised peace? When you listen to the news, it seems peace doesn’t exist.  Even in our homes, peace seems elusive.  Couples bicker and divorce, siblings argue and fight.  The book of Isaiah sheds light on peace: “If only you had paid attention to my commands, your peace would have been like a river” (48:18a NIV).  One prerequisite to peace is obeying God’s commands.  But what about peace…”like a river”?  To fully appreciate this concept of peace like a river, imagine a great river running through the land.
            The broad river, a constant presence, flows despite obstacles.  Sometimes the river runs smoothly; at other times it runs headlong into a snag, separating and diverting its water to other paths.  The water flows peacefully on, until downstream it smashes full force against the rocks, shattering spray high in the air.  Flowing to the top of a sharp drop-off, the water rushes forward, falling… falling…rushing over the edge, churning and boiling at the bottom.  After a time the waters collect in a still pool, resting, reveling in the quiet. 
           During my mother’s last years, her mind ravaged by dementia, my river of peace constantly ran against snags of her lost memory.  My peace plummeted over the precipice of countless hours of watching her mind rapidly losing rational thought and memory.  Constantly swirling and eddying, the waters rushed me from work to assist Dad with her care.  Emotional whirlpools threatened to spin out of control.  The only thing that kept my sanity during this difficult time was God’s peace.
           You may ask how I could feel peace when my world was turned upside down.  In Galatians 5:22, we learn that peace is a fruit of the Spirit.  Only the spirit of God can give us peace in the midst of the snags, rocks, waterfalls, and whirlpools of life.  So how do we receive this peace?  We can’t buy it in a store; we can only receive it as a gift from God. When our life’s circumstances shatter against the rocks, placing trust in God’s perfect will keeps us at peace despite trying circumstances.  Jesus tells us he leaves us peace, but “I do not give you [peace] as the world gives” (John 14:22 NIV).  The countries of the world may continue to fight, and we still experience difficulties and tragedies.  But when we obey God’s commands and trust Him, no matter how difficult our circumstances, we experience His peace, flowing like a river deep within our souls.
          Isaiah 26:3 “You [God] will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trust in you.”
          Thank you, Father, for providing your perfect peace.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Dress for Success (reprise)

Every morning as I prepare for my day, I decide what to wear.  Looking in my closet and dresser, I have choices to make.  Do I wear a skirt today?  Slacks?  Jeans?  What top coordinates with the skirt or pants?  Both must match in color and appropriateness for the weather and occasion.  Next, I must decide on appropriate accessories.  Which shoes?  Belt?  Scarf?  Jewelry?  All these choices must coordinate to create a unified whole.  Once I make my decisions and dress, I’m ready for the day.

Just as I am able to choose daily what clothes I’ll wear, I have choices in what to don from my spiritual closet.   What shall I wear today?  Shall it be a spirit of complaining or a spirit of gratefulness?  If I wear the spirit of complaining, I must also put on bitterness and accessorize with sorrow, for these create a coordinated ensemble.  Before deciding what to choose from my spiritual closet, I think, “Is this what a child chosen by God would wear?  Is this appropriate attire for the daughter of the King?”  If not, I discard those “clothes” and choose to wear something else. Today, perhaps I’ll don that spirit of gratefulness.  To match gratefulness, I choose compassion and humility, for those naturally complement gratefulness.  In order to accessorize, I choose good deeds for my feet.  To top it all off, the sparkling gem of God’s love unifies the ensemble.  Now I’m ready for the day. 

Father, help me choose wisely from my closet of spiritual clothing.

Colossians 3:12 “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothes yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

On the Beach (reprise)

One summer Scott and I flew to San Diego to visit our cousin Zelda.  While there, we spent some time at the Pacific Ocean’s shore.  Just standing at a very small edge of this huge body of water was awe-inspiring.  Looking outward from my vantage point on the sand, I could not imagine the immensity of this vast body of water, stretching for thousands of miles in every direction.  I spent some time wandering along the shore, always looking out to the water.  The waves never ceased.  Constantly they rushed the beach, always the same, yet always different.  They followed one another, curling and rolling, white spray flying high.  White gulls skimmed the water’s surface, diving into the tops of the waves to capture fish for breakfast.  Each wave must have contained thousands of gallons of moving, roiling, rushing water.  Their strength amazed me.  Even when I stood ankle deep at the very edge of this ocean, the waves, running to the shore and then back home, pulled at me, nearly knocking me off my feet.  “Come out into the deep,” they seemed to say. The locals said, “Always face the waves.”  I learned to keep my eyes on the waves and never underestimate their power. 

I tried to discern a pattern in the way the waves ran at the beach, but the variety was endless.  They came in intervals—for a time many smaller waves hit the beach, then bigger waves—wave after wave—pounded the shore, rolling, breaking, rushing to the sands, and then retreating.

The sound of the waves was astounding. Right at my feet was always the soft, sibilant sound of waves running at the beach, scrubbing the sand, then running back home, pulled by the ocean as a small child runs back to her mother and father.  But farther out, where the waves curled on themselves and broke, the waters boomed and roared, boomed and roared.  Even from a half mile away their crashing noise echoed.   I closed my eyes and soaked in the sounds of this majestic ocean.  The early morning air was cool, and I basked in the amazing experience, wishing I could stay longer.  I stood, I looked, I listened, trying to absorb it all.

It occurred to me that the incredible beauty, immensity, and power of the ocean are, on a small scale, a reflection of our miraculous God.  When I stood on the beach and gazed at the ocean, it seemed so enormous, yet I viewed only an infinitesimal portion of this massive body of water. So it is with God.  We are privileged at times to catch glimpses of God’s immensity, but we see only a small portion.  We glimpse His power, yet we experience just a tiny glimpse of His majesty.  In Isaiah 45:15, we read, “Truly you are a God who hides himself, O God and Savior of Israel.”    Paul reminds us how little we know of our awesome God in I Corinthians 13:12.  “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

God, thank you for the tangible reminders of Your greatness.

Psalms 93:3-4 “The seas have lifted up, O LORD, the seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.  Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the LORD on high is mighty.”




Saturday, August 11, 2012

Tending the Garden: a Parable

There once was a woman who married, had children, worked hard to provide a pleasant home for her family and raise her children in a loving manner.  She worked in her church and did her best to serve her God in the ways she could.  After her children matured, this woman went to work and enjoyed meaningful labor.  In short, she was very typical:  She worked hard, enjoyed leisure time, and honored God.
But deep down inside her was a secret: nestled within the folds of her soul resided two tiny seeds:  seeds of doubt and faith.  Even she didn’t know those two seeds hid in her soul. 

She went to church every Sunday, and she said her prayers.  Her tiny seed of faith opened and grew miniscule hair-like roots.  She joined a bible study, and a small shoot emerged, opening tiny, green leaves.  Her faith grew.  But before long her life became so hectic she was unable to attend bible study, and she fell asleep before saying her prayers.  Life didn’t seem to be the way it should, for a normal woman.

Soon the little seedling of faith withered and drooped.  The seed of doubt opened and sent out strong roots.  The plant grew tall and sprouted many green leaves.  The woman grew restless and discontented.  Praying became difficult.  Doubt grew strong and vigorous, a flourishing weed.

A few weeks later, she tried to pray to God.  “God, where are you?  Why can’t I pray to you?”  Then God allowed her to see the weed of doubt and the tiny seedling of faith struggling in its shadow.

“Oh God!”  She cried out.  “Show me how to eradicate the weed of doubt!  How can I get rid of it?”
 
“Keep praying and spending time with Me,” a still, small voice seemed to say.  But the weed of doubt flourished and the tiny seedling of faith struggled to stay alive.

The next day she cried out to her God.  “Father, make that weed wither up and die!  Cause the seedling to grow and flourish.”

“Be patient, my child,” came the answer.  “Even though you do not feel my presence, I am here, and I love you.”  The tiny seedling of faith raised its leaves heavenward.

Father God, show me ways to nourish the seed of faith.

Proverbs 22:5 “In the paths of the wicked lie thorns and snares, but he who guards his soul stays far from them."

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Who's My Neighbor?

When one of the “experts in the law” of Jesus’ day tested Jesus, he asked, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” In response, Jesus asked him what was written in the law. The man answered, “’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,’ and ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’” (Luke 10: 25 & 27).  When the expert, in order to justify himself, then asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” (vs. 29), Jesus told the familiar story about the Good Samaritan.
At this time, Samaritans were reviled by Israelites. Most men would walk miles out of their way to avoid stepping foot on Samaritan soil. They were considered lower than dogs and definitely didn’t rank high on any Israelite’s social list. Yet, to illustrate who is your neighbor, Jesus tells the story of the hated Samaritan who helps a poor man who’s been beaten by robbers and left for dead on the side of the road. A priest and a Levite, both highly esteemed men of God, choose to ignore the helpless man, but a hated Samaritan stops to help.

Today, we understand, of course, that our neighbors live next door and across the street. Generally speaking, we get along well with them. Expanding this concept of neighborliness, we try to help the poor by giving our money to worthy causes to provide food and shelter for the less fortunate and to help others in times of natural disasters.

But I wonder if Jesus has even more in mind? He did, after all talk about a reviled Samaritan as the hero of his story about neighbors. Look at some of the people Jesus chose to spend time with. One of his closest disciples was a tax collector. Today we may tell jokes about the IRS, but this sentiment is nothing like the tax collectors in Jesus’ day. These men collected tax money for the Romans! No one wanted to give money to their cruel conquerors! And to make matters worse, many believed the tax collectors raised the fees just to line their own pockets. People in Jesus’ day hated tax collectors.

Who was the first person to see Jesus risen from the dead? Mary Magdalene, a woman who’d been possessed by seven demons. I can’t imagine that this woman had high stature in society. Jesus spent time with other women not highly regarded in his day. He offered his living water to a Samaritan woman of ill repute. When another woman was caught in the very act of adultery, he chose not to follow the law that required an adulteress to be stoned to death. Instead, he said to the men waiting to kill her, “if any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7b). Perhaps loving our neighbors is about more than being nice to those who live near us and giving our money to the less fortunate. Perhaps it has more to do with our attitudes toward others who are different from us. Perhaps I need to examine my ideas of neighborliness.

Father God, reveal to me the Samaritans, the Matthews, and the Mary Magdalene’s in my life. Show me how to love them as I love myself.

Monday, July 30, 2012

As The Deer Pants for Water (reprise)

It is late July.  The hot sun scorches the earth.  The brittle grass browns and breaks.  Moisture-starved leaves yellow and flutter to the ground.  The baked earth, cracked in every direction, cries for rain.  Insects buzz in erratic dances—nothing else moves.  The stifling heat rises in nearly invisible waves.

Safe in her thicket, the deer stirs.  She must drink.  Gingerly, she ventures to the brook to quench her thirst.  Frequently, she pauses to sniff the air, sensing wolves and other predators lurking nearby, eager to taste her flesh.  They too must drink, so her danger heightens as she nears the life-giving water.  In spite of the danger, her extreme thirst drives her to the stream, for she pants for water.  She must drink.

On a hot summer’s day we guzzle glass after glass of cold, refreshing water, attempting to slake our thirst. If our souls truly pant for God the way the deer pants for water, what would we do?

O God, give me a thirst for You.  Make the thirst in me so strong I must satisfy it. Give me the discipline to drink deeply at your never-ending stream.

Psalm 42:1 & 2 "As the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants my soul for You, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God."


Friday, July 27, 2012

Rain!

I slept through it. The rain. After 25 days of 100 degree plus weather and extreme drought conditions, I slept through it. True, it wasn’t a heavy rain, but how I would have loved to stand in the refreshing liquid life, savoring the cool drops on my parched skin and deeply breathing the clean, clear air.

When I walked out the door at 8:30 in the morning, the sidewalk was wet and the dry grass no longer crunched beneath my feet. The rain-starved ground had guzzled every drop of moisture, leaving a springier cushion beneath my feet.

Driving across town that morning, I noticed the clouds. Instead of a clear blue sky with a scorching yellow sun, layers of white, gray, and black clouds dotted the sky, allowing filtered sunlight to shine down in gentler rays on the over-heated landscape.

In several spots around me, I eagerly watched gray streaks on the horizon, evidence of life-giving rain falling nearby, providing relief to yet another drought-stricken plot of baked earth. As I looked earthward, I noticed that the grass and trees around me already looked greener. Perhaps the green intensified because the sun’s light shone less fiercely, perhaps because the world’s dust and pollution had washed away in the rain. Either way, after such a long time of excessive heat and lack of moisture, my eyes greedily gobbled a green feast.

Just as the water from heaven falls on the earth and makes it green, so too the Spirit falls on mankind, making each of us an oasis in a land of spiritually thirsty people.

Father, let me be wide awake, ready to receive your life-giving Spiritual rain. May my soul drink deeply enough to allow the excess to spill over and water other dry souls.

Isaiah 44:3 “For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out my Spirit on your offspring, and my blessing on your descendants.”


Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Working with Your Hands

One pastime from which I derive much pleasure is making things with my hands.  To take a piece of yarn and make an afghan is very satisfying.  It is amazing that a flat piece of fabric becomes a dress, or colored thread makes a beautiful picture.  After I finish making something, I take great pride in it; it is something I carefully, lovingly made with my own hands.  Perhaps you, too, know the satisfying feeling that comes from creating something beautiful.

God must feel that way about making all of us.  What a beautiful thought!  God, a master craftsman (Jesus was, after all, a carpenter) has knit me, has made me.  From bits of nothing, He created something, a human being; He created me; He created you.

“My frame was not hidden from you, when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.  All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be” (Psalm 139:15, 16).  Just as I can look at a skein of yarn and “see” the finished afghan, so God could see me before my body was formed.  Just as I know every stitch that went into an afghan or an article of clothing, God knows everything about me and has known it since before I was born.  And notice, unlike my sometimes-feeble attempts at craftsmanship, the Psalmist’s words say that I was “skillfully wrought.”  Made sloppily?  No.  Made imperfectly?  No.  Made “skillfully.”  Like me, is God proud of his craftsmanship?  I think so.  God made me and made you “skillfully,” so we should be pleased and proud of ourselves; each of us is special and each of us is made exactly the way God wanted us to be. 

How often we complain about ourselves:  I wish I looked like this person, or had his talents or her wisdom.  When we question the way we look, the way we think, or the talents we have, we are questioning God.  When we criticize ourselves, we are sinning against God, our creator.  We are saying that His handiwork is not good.  Does that mean I’m perfect?  Of course not.  It means I am made exactly the way God intended me to be.

Knowing I have been made exactly the way God wanted me fills me with love and humility.  It gives me confidence that I would otherwise lack.  It also gives me a sense of great responsibility.  God gave me a certain personality and certain gifts for a reason.  As a child of His, it is my responsibility to recognize and appreciate the abilities He has created in me; it is my responsibility to dedicate my gifts to God and to use these God-given gifts to glorify my maker.

Oh God, creator of the universe, forgive me when I criticize your handiwork.  Help me to have confidence in who I am, not out of boastfulness, but because I know you lovingly made me as you wanted me and you are pleased with your work.

Psalm 139:13 "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb."

Friday, July 20, 2012

Parched

Before my morning walk I guzzle 16 ounces of water, trying to adequately hydrate before walking in the heat. On this 20th day of July, we’ve already had more than 20 days of 100 degree or higher heat. Even though much of my walk is shaded, I slather on sunscreen and head out the door. Walking on the nature trails is relatively cool—the trees’ dappled shade provides a respite from the sun’s merciless heat.
As I walk, I notice the plant life around me. The trees still stretch their leafy canopies over the pathway, but signs of stress abound. Patches of yellow dot the overhead branches, and dry, brown, crunchy leaves litter my walk. Even though their roots reach deep underground, the trees struggle to find water in the unending heat and drought. Other than a brief sprinkle yesterday, I can’t remember the last time it rained.

The undergrowth shows evidence of the hot and dry conditions. Some of the once deep-green grasses have faded to pale, washed-out green. Those are the fortunate plants. Most are now brown and dried; the ones near the path crunch and crumble beneath my feet, becoming one with the dirt path.

When I reach the cement bridge over the little stream, I notice the creek has shrunk to half its normal size. Gone are the bubbling waters cascading over the rocks. Now the stream moves sluggishly along its path, exposing half of its muddy bed. Surely everything around me is parched and cries out for water. All the life around me waits for life-giving rain.

As I head toward home, I feel sweat dripping onto my neck. I too am parched and anxious to drink more water. Even though I stopped at a water fountain halfway through my walk, my mouth is dry and my thirst urges my feet to move quickly toward home and water. Unlike the forest plants and trees, I can turn on the faucet and quench my thirst whenever I choose. Nature must wait for rain.

So if I can quench my thirst whenever I want, why do I allow my soul to become dry? I can drink deeply from spiritual waters as often and as much as I please. Why do I allow my spirit to become thirsty? Just as I must replenish the water lost while walking, I must replenish my soul with Christ’s living water and not allow my soul to be parched.

Father, remind me to drink deeply and often from your living spiritual water.

Psalm 107:8 & 9 “Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men, for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.”

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Listening to the Stream

At first glance, the stream appears motionless, its shallow green waters merely reflecting the overarching canopy of green. But here by the bridge, rocks litter the stream’s bed, and its water comes to life. Its meandering impeded, the stream ripples, bubbles, and rushes. The currents ripple and swirl around the rocks and fall over submerged stone, plunging to a lower level, leaving bubbling foam at the base of the mini-waterfall. I sit by the side of the stream listening to its gurgling, allowing the water’s chaos to soothe my soul.

God’s spirit flows through my life like a stream. At times it moves so quietly I scarcely notice its motion. But once life’s difficulties obstruct my way, I take more quiet time to listen carefully for God’s spirit rushing through my life. When I sit quietly, watching and listening, I have eyes to see and ears to hear His spirit moving in my life.

Lord, help me to be inwardly still during crises and during calm times, that I may better acknowledge you and your work in my life.

Psalm 46:10a “Be still and know that I am God.”




Friday, July 6, 2012

One Teaspoon at a Time

Years ago I watched a construction crew dig the foundation of a house. Sitting on my front porch while my children played, I saw the big digger drive up over the curb into the empty lot across the street. The man in the yellow hard hat climbed out of the digger and consulted with other men in hard hats who’d arrived in trucks. After walking around the lot and talking together for a few minutes, the first man climbed back into the digger. The big engine roared to life, and the driver pulled a lever. The huge bucket on his digger reached down and bit its teeth into the earth. As the man pulled more levers, the earth-filled bucket swiveled and dumped its contents into a dump truck. Bite after giant bite of earth filled the waiting dump trucks. The filled dump trucks drove away full and returned empty, ready for more dirt. Within a couple of hours a large rectangular hole, the foundation for a new home, appeared in the empty lot.

 If that foundation had been dug with a teaspoon…it would have taken years, rather than hours to dig it. If dozens of people all wielded their teaspoons, digging the soil and dumping it into the truck, it would still have taken far more than two hours to dig that foundation. As crazy as it sounds, though, a foundation could be dug that way.

I have to admit that my mind sometimes works in strange ways. Last week, when I helped deliver meals to the homeless, I thought about how difficult it would be to survive outdoors in the merciless 100 degree, humid weather. But my mind also skipped ahead a few months, and I wondered, How difficult would it be to survive in the streets during the winter? Can you imagine shivering in an icy wind all day and all night?

I want to do something to help, but there are so many people. We fed 70 and know there are more homeless in our community than that. I want to crochet an afghan, make a fleece blanket, and purchase some good, used winter clothes. But how could I offer an afghan, a blanket, and a coat to a few people while others, shivering nearby, watch?

That’s when I thought about digging a foundation with a teaspoon. I’m only one person, and have neither time nor resources to keep the homeless warm or to get them off the streets. But I have a teaspoon: I can crochet one afghan, I can make one fleece blanket, and I can buy one used coat. This will make a tiny dent in the soil of discomfort for the homeless. But what if many others, all wielding their own teaspoons, joined me in this endeavor? Together, with our tiny teaspoons, we can accomplish much.

I’ve asked others who knit or crochet to make some 8 inch squares. If enough people knit or crochet squares, we can sew them together and create many warm afghans! With our teaspoons, with our small gestures, we can dig a hole big enough to make a difference. Are you ready to dig with your teaspoon?

Proverbs 19:17 “He who is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward him for what he has done.”














Thursday, July 5, 2012

The Least of These

Even at 10 am this late June morning, the air is hot and heavy with moisture. Today’s expected high is 106 degrees. Fortunately, I sit in the park, surrounded by huge, leafy green canopies. The cottonwoods, oak, and sycamores provide some protection and relief from the sun’s rays.

All around me I hear Spring’s mating calls: the cardinals sing, hoping to attract a mate. Cicadas' harsh calls sound from my left, then the answering calls echo to my right. I sit on a bench under the shade of a wooden gazebo, soaking in the calm atmosphere.

My mind drifts. Instead of enjoying the beauty and quiet of Lemon Park in Pratt, Kansas, my mind drifts back a few days. I’m in downtown Wichita, on a Sunday evening in 100 degree heat. Here, too, I’m seeking shade, but for a different reason.

With six gentlemen friends, I seek shade not for myself, but for others. We’re on a quest, seeking the homeless. Surely, on this hot day, they seek relief from the oppressive heat in a shaded spot or grassy, tree-lined park.

My friends and I aren’t disappointed. We find the homeless trying to keep cool in sheltered spots: under the Kellogg overpass, in the shade of a gazebo in Old Town, and in the shadows of the downtown library. We offer our small gifts—a sandwich, a bag of chips, a cookie, a pack of gum, some toiletries, and a bottle of water. They seem such a small gifts. We chat for a few moments with each group. Invariably we are thanked, often with a sincere, “God bless you.”

Then we climb back into our air-conditioned vehicles and search for others who are hot, thirsty, and displaced. The irony of our finding some respite from the heat in an air-conditioned vehicle does not escape me. The 70 or so people appreciate the gifts, but our gesture seems so small, like using a teaspoon to dig the foundation of a house. But we will continue to dig that foundation, providing what we can. One sandwich and one water bottle at a time, we’ll provide small gifts for our brothers. One small gift is better than nothing.

Mark 12:29-31 “The most important [commandment] …is this… ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”

Matthew 25:40b “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did your for me.”




Sunday, June 24, 2012

Ubiquitous

Ubiquitous.  I like that word.  Yoo-bik-wi-tuhs.  Strange word.  It means “something that is present or seems to be present everywhere at the same time.”  Once I first heard the word I noticed it more and more often.  Listen and you will hear it too, “ubiquitous.”  The word itself has almost become ubiquitous.

What has truly become ubiquitous in our society is the cell phone.  Everywhere, it seems, there are cell phones.  Their ringing interrupts meetings, movies, and plays.  Rings tones sing out everywhere.  In the middle of a quiet dinner, the person nearby is loudly talking to a friend, telling details of her life I don’t want to hear.  Everyone knows how ubiquitous, ever present, and annoying the cell phone can sometimes be.

I have decided not to let the sounds of all these cell phones and cell phone users annoy me.  Sound like an impossible task?  In order not to be annoyed, I let the cell phone serve as a reminder.  Whenever I hear or see the phone, I remember that God is ubiquitous, present everywhere at the same time, omnipresent.  No matter how often I hear a cell phone or see or hear someone talking on the phone, I know God is more ubiquitous than the phone.  Every second of every day, He is here beside me.  When I am in the grocery store, driving in my car, attending a play, or hard at work, He is beside me, loving me, seeking me, wanting me to seek Him.  I can talk with God more easily and more often than anyone can talk on a cell phone and it doesn’t cost a cent!  He is ubiquitous.  So when the phone rings?  Annoyance is replaced by the confident assurance that God is with me and, instead of irritation about phone interruptions, I express a prayer of thanksgiving to my all-powerful, all wise, all loving, ever present, ubiquitous God. 

Omnipotent, ubiquitous God, whenever the phone rings, let that remind me of Your holy presence.  

Psalm 139:7-9 “Where can I go from your Spirit?  Where can I flee from your presence? 




Thursday, June 21, 2012

At the Beach (Reprise)

 One summer Scott and I flew to San Diego to visit our cousin Zelda.  While there, we spent some time at the Pacific Ocean’s shore.  Just standing at a very small edge of this huge body of water was awe-inspiring.  Looking outward from my vantage point on the sand, I could not imagine the immensity of this vast body of water, stretching for thousands of miles in every direction.  I spent some time wandering along the shore, always looking out to the water.  The waves never ceased.  Constantly they rushed the beach, always the same, yet always different.  They followed one another, curling and rolling, white spray flying high.  White gulls skimmed the water’s surface, diving into the tops of the waves to capture fish for breakfast.  Each wave must have contained thousands of gallons of moving, roiling, rushing water.  Their strength amazed me.  Even when I stood ankle deep at the very edge of this ocean, the waves, running to the shore and then back home, pulled at me, nearly knocking me off my feet.  “Come out into the deep,” they seemed to say. The locals said, “Always face the waves.”  I learned to keep my eyes on the waves and never underestimate their power. 
I tried to discern a pattern in the way the waves ran at the beach, but the variety was endless.  They came in intervals—for a time many smaller waves hit the beach, then bigger waves—wave after wave—pounded the shore, rolling, breaking, rushing to the sands, and then retreating.

The sound of the waves was astounding. Right at my feet was always the soft, sibilant sound of waves running at the beach, scrubbing the sand, then running back home, pulled by the ocean as a small child runs back to her mother and father.  But farther out, where the waves curled on themselves and broke, the waters boomed and roared, boomed and roared.  Even from a half mile away their crashing noise echoed.   I closed my eyes and soaked in the sounds of this majestic ocean.  The early morning air was cool, and I basked in the amazing experience, wishing I could stay longer.  I stood, I looked, I listened, trying to absorb it all.

It occurred to me that the incredible beauty, immensity, and power of the ocean are, on a small scale, a reflection of our miraculous God.  When I stood on the beach and gazed at the ocean, it seemed so enormous, yet I viewed only an infinitesimal portion of this massive body of water. So it is with God.  We are privileged at times to catch glimpses of God’s immensity, but we see only a small portion.  We glimpse His power, yet we experience just a tiny glimpse of His majesty.  In Isaiah 45:15, we read, “Truly you are a God who hides himself, O God and Savior of Israel.”    Paul reminds us how little we know of our awesome God in I Corinthians 13:12.  “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

God, thank you for the tangible reminders of Your greatness.

Psalms 93:3-4 “The seas have lifted up, O LORD, the seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.  Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the LORD on high is mighty.”


Sunday, June 17, 2012

Happy Father's Day

On Father’s Day, we remember and honor our Fathers.  Each of us has different memories of our fathers; some have memories of warm, loving fathers; some have memories that are not so pleasant.  Some of our fathers are with us; some are no longer living on this earth. 

Even though we all have different earthly fathers, we all have in common our heavenly Father.  This Father loves us more than we can imagine.  He longs to have a relationship with His children and shower them with good gifts.  We each have a unique, special relationship with our heavenly Father, and in His wisdom He gives each of us different gifts.  But there is one gift He has given to each and every one of us—the gift of His only begotten Son, Jesus, our Lord and Savior.

He sent His Son to earth to live as a man, like us.  Jesus experienced the same trials, pains, disappointments, frustrations and temptations that we experience.  Our Savior lived the way we live.  But the way He died sets Him apart.  This is the special gift that our heavenly Father has sent to us.  He allowed the blood of His only begotten son to be shed, for us.  He allowed the body of His only begotten son to be broken for us.  Jesus commands us to remember His sacrifice:  “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19b). Father and Son together gave this gift so we could sit at the throne of God, become His children and have the privilege of calling Him “Abba, Father.”

Heavenly Father, Thank you for the sacrifice of your only son. Thank you for adopting us into your heavenly family and allowing us to call you “Father.

John 3:16-17 (NIV) “For god so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”

Saturday, June 16, 2012

A Woodland Sanctuary

As I walked on the nature trails, I wandered off the beaten path.  Large toadstools nestled under a grove of blue spruce trees attracted my attention.

Pushing aside branches, I walked fifteen feet, entering a small clearing.  The ground, carpeted with years of accumulated needles, felt soft beneath my feet.  A chorus of crickets broke the silence.  In the distance a woodpecker drilled, searching for insects.  Inside my clearing, all was shadow, quiet and still; it became a sanctuary that soothed my soul. A smattering of bright red sumac leaves provided stained-glass windows.  I sat on this carpet, gazing at the beauty all around me, and I felt the presence of God.  Strains of “This Is Holy Ground” ran through my head. 

Looking out an opening between the horizontal branches, I observed the golden radiance of the late afternoon sun. Outside my sanctuary, the seed heads of the natural prairie grasses glowed transparently in the sun’s light, creating a stunning contrast to the shadowy grove.  The scene was breath-taking: I had to capture it on film.  When I put the camera to my eye, it was focused on the branches in the foreground.  They seemed large and dark, like horizontal prison bars, and the golden glow of the grasses in the background were barely noticeable. I refocused the camera, and the grasses, shot through with light, became the focus of my picture; the branches in the foreground almost disappeared.

I took my picture, and I thought:  how many times in my life do I focus on the tree branches right in front of me that impede my spiritual way, and thus fail to see God’s light just beyond?  How many times do I allow myself to become discouraged over minor problems instead of focusing my thoughts on the brilliance of God’s majesty or the comforting glow of his love? It’s all a matter of focus.

Remembering the lesson of the camera’s focus enables me to thank God in all situations and focus on His spiritual light shining beyond my earthly troubles.

Father let my eyes see beyond the earthly; let me steadfastly watch your spiritual light.  May I always focus on the wonders You have created, on the wonder of You.
Hebrews 12:2-3 “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.”

Friday, June 8, 2012

Buoy Me Up

The ocean is relatively flat in this sheltered harbor. Gentle swells buoy my husband and me up and down as we tread water 50 yards from the shore. We’re more accustomed to clear, flat, chlorinated swimming pools. Swimming in the ocean is a rare treat. Quickly we notice the buoyancy of the salt water is quite different from pool water.

Soon I realize that I can keep myself afloat with just gentle kicks or quiet sweeps of my hands. Before long I discover another surprise. Between the salt water and my additional pounds, I can afloat upright, breathing easily, without kicking or stroking. I cross my legs and place my arms down at my sides. Still upright, my head stays above water.  Keeping very still, I find my body gradually tipping; the waves have gently pushed, and I find myself on my back, still afloat. When I face the shore, my body gently tips forward, and I now float on my stomach.  Being able to stay upright in the water with my head above the water without working to stay afloat amazes me! Very quickly Scott also adapts to this new buoyancy, and we enjoy our time in the waves, staying above water effortlessly. All we need is a few gentle hand strokes or kicks to keep our balance.

If only it were so easy to adjust to God’s buoyancy! After many years and many trials I’ve learned that God keeps me afloat even in the darkest of times. He keeps my head up even in the biggest waves of life. Yet still, how often I vigorously kick and press my hands against the waves, working desperately to keep my head above the water, forgetting that God buoys me up. If only I could learn to relax and allow him to buoy me up and keep my head above the waters that threaten to suffocate me. How often I kick and struggle, wearing myself out instead of giving in and allowing God to take control and buoy me up.

Father God, help me to trust in You and allow Your buoyancy to keep my head above the waves. Buoy me up Lord, buoy me up.

Psalm 33:20-22 (NIV) “We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you.”

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

A Child's Walk with His Father (Reprise)

“Let’s go,” the father called to his four-year-old son.

Jimmy scampered over and reached his small hand up for his dad’s firm grasp.  Eagerly he tugged on the strong arm, “Let’s go, let’s go,” he sang.
Small hand wrapped firmly in the larger hand, out the door they walked, down the sidewalk.  Jimmy hopped and skipped and gleefully noticed everything.  “Wow!  Look at that bird.  Look, look, an airplane.”  He paused momentarily to point and stare skyward.

Soon a large German shepherd barked noisily at them.  Jimmy jumped, edging closer to his dad.  “Daddy, I’m scared, carry me,” he pleaded.
“Don’t worry; I won’t let that dog hurt you.” Dad scooped Jimmy up and swung him onto his broad shoulders.
Soon they came to an intersection.  “Stop!” called Jimmy.  “Look left.  Look right.  Any cars?  No?  Okay, go,” just as his father had taught him.  Together they safely crossed the street.

“Daddy, I want down.”  Once again, strong arms lifted Jimmy off his dad’s shoulders and set him safely on the sidewalk.
Jimmy, like most young children, loves to spend time with his dad.  With childlike faith, he puts his hand in the strong hand of his father, trusting him completely.  Together, they walk wherever the father chooses, knowing their time together is more important than the path they choose.  Even though they utter few words, they communicate.  In times of difficulties or danger, the son instinctively draws closer to his father, who carries him.

In the same way the small child trusts his father on his walk, so we trust our heavenly Father on our life’s walk.  Trustingly, we place our hand in His.  We talk to Him, expressing our delight in what we encounter, and our fears of what lies ahead. No matter what, we confidently walk with Him on whatever path He chooses.  If we listen to His words and follow His advice, we know we will avoid danger, just like the child who learned to look both ways before crossing the street.  Will our walk always be pleasant?  No.  Will we ever become fatigued or frightened?  Yes.  Will there be times of great difficulties?  Of course.  But like a small child, we confidently look up and say, “Daddy, I need help, carry me.”  Whatever difficulties we face, our Father, who listens to our pleas, picks us up with his strong hands, swings us up on His broad shoulders, and carries us safely though life’s journey.

Father God, teach me to have child-like trust in You.

Psalm 16:11 (NIV) “You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”







Psalm 37:3-6 “Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.  Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.  Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this:  he will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.”




Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Last Supper: A Servant Girl

My name is Miriam. I am a lowly servant girl. I had served this group of men before. When one of them needed something, he merely called, “Girl!” and I fetched what he wished. They didn’t call me by name, nor did I expect them to, for I am merely a servant girl. I perform menial tasks: washing the guests’ feet, carrying the platters of dried dates and apricots, bringing them bowls of nuts, and keeping the cups filled with good wine.

The leader of this group stood out. From the very first time I served him, he called me by name. “Thank you, Miriam,” he said as I placed a fresh loaf of warm bread on the table. I have to admit, this startled me at first. I wondered how He even knew my name and why He would thank me for doing my job. After that, I listened to His words as he spoke to His disciples. Clearly, He spoke with authority and knew the ancient scriptures. Fascinated, I listened to His words while carrying food for the table. His words provided nourishment for my soul.

On this day, this “last supper,” the man Jesus waved me away when I brought out the basin and fresh towels to wash the men’s feet. When I hesitated, he quietly said, “We won’t need this today, Miriam, thank you.” It felt strange not to wash their feet, but what else was a servant girl to do? I placed the towels on the floor next to the basin and went to get the first platter of food.

After I’d served for some time and the men appeared satisfied with their food, the leader, Jesus, did the strangest thing. He got up from the table, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped one of the towels around his waist. He poured water into the basin and began washing his disciples’ feet. I was horrified! This was my job, the job of a lowly servant, not the job for a leader of men! When he saw me move toward Him, he looked up and caught my eye. One glance was all it took to reassure me:  all was well. I stood silently and watched Him wash his disciples’ feet.

One of the men loudly protested, and almost didn’t allow Jesus to wash his feet. But Jesus taught him and the others; he explained that “no servant is greater than his master.” He told them he was setting an example for them, that they too should be willing to serve others and not be concerned about their own greatness. I listened carefully to every word.

Because of him, I now view myself differently. I’m still a humble servant, but I realize I have value in the eyes of Jesus and am proud to call myself Miriam, faithful servant.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

The Last Supper: A Disciple

On Maundy Thursday you celebrate and remember this meal, calling it “the Last Supper.” Strange, isn’t it? To us it was just another supper. True, Jesus taught us many things at that table, but we really didn’t understand their significance. We didn’t truly understand who He was until after…but I get ahead of myself. That night Jesus drank from the cup and said He wouldn’t drink again until the “kingdom of God comes.” I caught the looks on some of the other disciples’ faces when he said that. Some looked eager, for they longed for a confrontation. They wanted their king to take His rightful place and overthrow the hated Romans. Others just looked confused.

All of us were confused when he broke the bread and said it was his body. We looked at each other and wondered what he was talking about. Had he been out in the sun too long that day? He really wasn’t making any sense.

But we frequently didn’t understand many of the things he told us. We shrugged it off and ate the meal while reclining by the table and talking among ourselves. If we had only listened more carefully, we would have understood, for Jesus prepared us for the future. Instead of appreciating what we had, we chose to argue among ourselves.

“I’m greater because I followed Him first!”

“No, I’m greater because He spends more time with me!”

“No, me! I’m greater.” We argued with puffed up chests just like adolescent boys trying to impress. If we had only known, we’d have spent that last supper together differently.

You have an advantage over those of us who spent this time with Jesus. You know what happened after this “last supper.” Yet, when you take the cup and the bread, you sometimes keep grudges against your neighbor and wonder who is “the best.” I have regrets over the way I spent my “last supper” with Jesus.  When you sup with Him, make sure you heed His voice and have no regrets.