From Cousin Jamie

I Am Thankful

I am thankful that when things happen that we don't expect, God is faithful in ways that we don't expect.

And I'm thankful that we can't see what's coming, either.

God is good!

(I thought this was well worth repeating, in case you don't happen over to Jamie's blog!)

I'd like to add that I am thankful for kindred spirits to walk through the hard times with, whose courage gives us strength, and whose love gives us courage.

Focus

Needless to say, if you have been following my blog lately, you probably know that I have been thinking about prayer A LOT.

K accompanied me to BiMart today and he found these cute little antlers. On the way home, the following conversation ensued, which brought my thoughts about prayer into clearer focus.

K: I'm glad I forced you to get me these antlers.

Me: You didn't force me. You asked and so I said okay.

K: Would you have bought them for me if I hadn't come?

Me: No, I probably would not even have seen them if you hadn't been with me.

I'll let you make your own inferences.....

Cinderella

I was three when the movie version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella was made, starring Lesley Ann Warren as Cinderella. I don't know how I old I was when I first saw it on TV, but it aired every year, as did The Wizard of Oz, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, The Sound of Music, and many other favorites. I suspect I was about four or five when I first saw it. But to me, THAT version is the quintessential Cinderella. As an adult, I saw the Julie Andrews version (1957), but as much as I love Julie Andrews' acting, she did not outdo Ms. Warren. The animated Disney version was cute, but the Disney version starring Brandy was horrid, because Brandy brought an air of haughtiness to the character that was never a part of MY Cinderella.

MY Cinderella, though she was in a tough situation and was treated poorly, never gave that attitude back. She remained respectful of her elders and obedient. She was kind to those who were not kind to her. Nevertheless, she never let them tromp on her dreams. She was my ideal. She taught me that people can control your environment but they cannot control your mind.

She had faith that her kindness would be rewarded and that her inner beauty would be seen. When she meets the prince for the first time, she offers him a drink of water and he says, "Thank you most kindly." And she replies, "You are most kindly welcome." When she meets him at the dance, the same lines are exchanged and he vaguely remembers them. Then, when he comes around to her house with the slipper and she is made to go outside and not be seen, she is in despair, thinking she will never see him again, but offers him a drink of water and he again says, "Thank you most kindly" and she replies, nearly in tears, "You are most kindly welcome, Your Highness." At that point it is the kindness that he recognizes, not her beauty. And then he remembers, "We have spoken these words before...Not only here, but in a moonlit garden." To me, this is the culmination of all her hopes and dreams--the answer to "Do I love you because you're beautiful, or are you beautiful because I love you?"--It is her kindness he sees, not her lovely fairy-godmother-crafted gown, not her breeding, not her family, not her education. It's what is on the inside that makes her beautiful to him.

This is the palette of my dreams growing up. This is the standard by which my hopes were set. She didn't have to be sassy to get her way. She didn't have to be unkind and stand up for her rights. She just held to her guns and tried to be kind, and in the end her dreams came true.

And this is the essence of my fairy tale with God. I remember being a teenager and listening to Second Chapter of Acts, singing from Revelation 19, "On a white horse riding is He, incorruptible. He is called faithful and true. He rules in power and wages war in righteousness, holiness and justice and uprightness. His eyes blazing like fire, and on His head many kingly crowns. He is dressed in a robe of red, by dipped in blood, and He is called the Word of God."

Wow, Christ is my Prince Charming, white horse and all!! But not only that, just like Cinderella's Prince, he sees what's on the inside of me. He treasures who I am on the inside. And he knows me! "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight." (1 Peter 3:3,4)

He understands all the times that I have been kind to those who have not been kind to me. "...Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. 'He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.' When they hurled insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats."

(1 Peter 2: 21-23)

I could never have imagined the Prince who came to my rescue, riding on a white horse. Of lowly birth I may have been, rejected by some, wounded by some...my story is no different than yours; but Behold! He comes!!

The Pillar of Cloud

Did you ever wonder what that "pillar of cloud" looked like that accompanied the Hebrews in the wilderness? Around here we often see "dust devils" in the summer, and they are awesome enough when they are big. But that pillar of cloud was the manifestation of God's presence--it must have been nothing short of terrifying!

Once, when I was visiting my folks at the coast, I was sitting on the floor facing the ocean. The sun had just set and I saw shooting from east to west coming from over the house and going toward the ocean, the most beautiful green light. It took my breath away. I gasped in wonder, fear and anticipation. I think I was momentarily speechless. I don't recall that anyone else had seen it. When I finally spoke, I'm sure I was a bit incoherent, but I finally put into words what I had seen and Dad reassured me that it was just someone on the beach shooting off flares. I tried to believe him, but that feeling of anticipation and excitement mingled with fear stayed with me. The next day, I read in the paper that it was a huge bolide that had been seen from all over the Northwest, mostly going from north to south, but breaking up and with a big piece going westward. That was what I saw!!

I have had that same "breathtaking" experience on a handful of occasions, usually in dreams. But I know that when Jesus returns--if I am still here--that is EXACTLY how I will feel--only magnified!

We have been enjoying watching "Storm Chasers" lately (sort of sane, sort of reality TV). And I have been fascinated by the tornadoes. There tends to be a pattern to them. Like the whirlpools we see as the bath water slurps down the drain, tornadoes start as BIG, slowly swirling cloud masses. The speed picks up, the circle tightens, and the funnel forms and often appears to be looking for someplace particular to land.

I'm thinking that is how it is with God's spirit, the manifestation of His power in our lives. The mighty, massive, ominous cloud begins to circle slowly overhead. It picks up speed and the funnel forms, looking for a particular spot to touch down, a place where He is being praised, where people are in a posture to allow the tornado to work through them. But when it hits, it is no dust devil; there is no doubting the presence of God in the place.

Note: It is important to note that funnels do not usually form in sunny skies and that just the presence of people postured to allow God to work through them does not automatically bring the manifestation of His power...We don't know which way the wind blows; but we need to be ready for it when it comes!!

Proverbs 14:10--More on Free Will

"Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy."

I feel very strongly that it is not God's desire for my brother to die from whatever ailment is befuddling him just now. I have decided that I know how to pray--that I will continue to pray for complete healing of his body and mind and soul, being confident that that is exactly what God's will for him is. I will ask unabashedly and with all my heart. No reservations.

After seeing my brother today, I stopped at church on the way home to weep for a while, alone. The sanctuary was beautifully decked out for a banquet tonight. I found a quiet, dim place on the floor in the back and wept...and wept...and wept....And I came to realize that, though this is not God's choice for my brother, it seems to be my brother's choice for himself. He probably doesn't understand the ramifications of his choices--we seldom do--but what a magnificent juxtaposition: God's mercy and healing and compassion and forgiveness, waiting, and all my brother has to do is ask and the floodgates will open. But he doesn't ask.... God has all of this, and so much more, for all of us--but we don't ask!

And it isn't just this that hurts. Other people love my brother too. Other people are hurting too. And I hurt for them as well. But as much as we hurt, it does not even compare to how God hurts. We love Cliff much. Mom loves Cliff with all her heart. Who can love a man more than his mother? Our love for Cliff is a grain of sand on the beach, and God's love for him is the rocky cliff that stands against the waves. Our pain is miniscule compared to God's. And how many, many more Cliff's are there all over the world? throughout time?

Suddenly, I realized that I was hurting for God too....And that His tears were so much bigger than mine. I just wanted to comfort Him. And I don't know how to do that. I think of Lucy, in Narnia, crying into Aslan's mane. I want to run my fingers through Aslan's mane and wipe his tears away.

What is "Safe"?

November 17, 2008

I went with Mom to go visit my brother today. On the way home I heard a song I hadn't heard before. It started out talking about a baby and how, though the storm was raging outside, the baby was safe in her mother's arms. I wasn't able to listen as closely as I would have liked, but I would guess there is probably an analogy there about us being safe in God's arms.

That's a nice thought. And our pastor always says that God is safe. I don't think God is very safe. Aslan is not a tame lion. I am guessing the truth of the statement lies in our definition of "safe". In God's arms, what exactly are we safe from? Famine? Bankruptcy? Hunger? Homelessness? Illness? Suffering? Pain? Rejection? Loneliness? Heartache? I don't think so.

In reality--that is, God's reality--yes we are safe. He is the master potter. He may remake us, and in the end, we will be exactly what He intended us to be; however, the "remaking" will not feel very safe. Jeremiah 18: 3-5 says, "So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him."

So what ARE we safe from, if even in the master potter's hands we can be marred? Certainly we are not safe from pain, from demolition, from rebuilding from the ground up...

I attended a church throughout all my teenage years, and I made many close friends there--at least I thought I did. But from all of those people that I loved, very few still love me--or even remember me. When I run across them, they aren't interested in me at all. It makes me question whether I ever really fit in. Not that it matters, really. It's just hard when your perception doesn't seem to jive with reality. You start to question your sanity a little bit. It was the same with my high school "friends". It's the same with some of my biological family as well.

So for ME, what I am safe from in God's arms is a world that disowns me or that says I don't have the right parents, the right financial status, the right manners, the right connections, the right upbringing, the right car, the right clothes, the right smell. My God made ME exactly as I am, and He accepts ME, exactly as I am, exactly where I am, exactly how I smell, and exactly how I dress. The world may reject me, but the Creator of the world accepts me. The world may disown me, but my Father in heaven has adopted me.

I am safe in that I will not get to the end of my life and look back and say, "What did I accomplish?" because even if I have been marred in the potter's hands, as long as I remain in the potter's hands, he will reshape me into a usable vessel, as seems fit to him. And the potter will never discard me, deeming me unusable. I may not look like what I want to look like. I may not be the vessel that I would have chosen to be. But I will be a vessel, "as seems fit to him".

And I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate me from the potter's hands....

Mermott on My Desk

Just in case you can't tell, the picture is actually of my black cat, Mermott, sleeping in my viola case. Mermott was the only kitten in her litter. Her fur is softer than you can imagine. I have never actually touched mink, but I expect that is what her fur feels like.

Mermott and I have a special relationship. Each cat is unique, of course; but Mermott is gentle and soft-spoken, and unobtrusive. She is an excellent mouser, but she is also an excellent napper. And being black, she is often hard to spot. In fact, our camera does not like to take pictures of her. She just absorbs the light and the camera doesn't know what it's taking a picture of. But often, when I pass by her sleeping in some shadow, she will chirp to me, and reach out and pat me as I pass, and I of course respond by petting her and speaking to her in a tone of voice and words that I save for her alone. (Please, don't call the men in white coats just yet...you have time!)

Almost every morning, at some point while I am working, Mermott will jump up on my desk, plop herself unashamedly down on the schedule in front of me and block my view of my computer screen. She sits there prim and proper, facing me, and chirps to me. So I, of course, pet her and bump my forehead against hers and talk to her in quiet low tones and scratch her cheeks. And she will often reach a paw to my cheek or lay her paw on my wrist. And we share a minute of enjoying each other's presence. Then she excuses herself and curls up on the printer, or finds the warm spot on the desk behind my monitor, and curls up for a morning nap.

But there is a calmness and an expectancy to our interludes. She doesn't pester me like her niece WrongWay, who jumps on my desk, walks all over my keyboard, insists on being petted and held and when I put her down, jumps right back up...over and over, until I put her outside! Mermott just comes, says hello, gives me a pat, gets a pet in return, and then goes on her way.

Probably one of the weakest areas in my relationship with God is worship. I have a lot to learn in this area. Feel free to make comments and help me out. And please be tolerant if what I say is way out in left field...or in the cornfield altogether. My problem is that there is no pretense in me. And worship at home, in private, is one thing. But it's hard for me to worship in church. It's too close, too raw, too exposed, too intimate. And I am not comfortable being like that in public. And I don't know how to worship in truth, and maintain my composure.

But as I thought about Mermott today, I realized, perhaps that was what public worship needs to be for me. Not the passionate, never-let-me-go kind of thing that WrongWay demands; but the quiet, forehead-to-forehead, paw-on-wrist, quiet conversation that Mermott and I share.

A New Take on Autumn

We drove over to the coast on Halloween and enjoyed the rich colors of the changing seasons. I remembered our trees in Grants Pass; great big deciduous trees that shaded us in the summer and dropped their leaves, providing much-needed, mood-lifting light in the winter. And I realize what an incredibly creative God we have that He even thought of deciduous trees. I'm sure I never would have come up with that concept.

As we drove home Halloween night, though there was little wind, the leaves rained down on us the entire way. In the following week, I watched as the leaves quietly dropped off the maple tree in our back yard. As some unseen force was calling them downward little by little, the blanket of leaves on the ground beneath became thicker. Then today, when I looked outside, there was a mighty, rushing wind that came to finish the job. I was reminded of a Keith Green song from decades ago--in fact, this was the song Arden sang as we walked out of the sanctuary when G and I were married. (Rushing Wind)

And I think about my life in God, how very much it is like a deciduous tree. All the ways of thinking I learned throughout life that were not God's ways of thinking; all the selfish habits I acquired; every aspect of my behavior, my thinking, my speaking, my attitudes--all of these are leaves on the tree that is ME. And over the last decades, dead leaves have been falling little by little, one by one, coaxed to the ground as I let go of this or that and trust God that He knows better. But I am so READY for that rushing wind to come and strip my branches of those final leaves, to lay me bare. I'm prepared for that season of rest, that season of death, when everything I have known will be redefined....what some people would call the "desert" or the "wilderness"... as the sap falls, and the tree just waits, helpless. This is the season when pruning takes place; when the branches are easy to see and wounds and scars can be mended or cut away. It is THIS season when the Master's hand can form the tree to fit His vision and His purpose.

And then, Spring will come. Buds will form, leaves will open and the tree, now wearing a shawl of green, will reach to the sunlight, the source of all its life. Daily converting the sunlight into energy, the tree will grow and provide shade and sanctuary, and maybe even a limb for a tire swing.

And the leaves that had fallen the previous autumn, during the rain and cold of the winter, while the tree was sleeping, have become soil around the tree's roots, providing nutrients and mulch and an environment for other plants to grow--flowers and grass--just as our wounds and our old selves provide a connection to and empathy for those who are hurting.

So come, Holy Spirit, and scour my limbs of the clinging dead leaves. Come, Father, and prune away all that is in me that does not bear fruit. Come, Jesus, sun of my soul, and be my source of life. I will be still this Winter, enjoy my rest, and await Spring with hopeful anticipation.

"Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue, but with actions and in truth." (1 John 3:18)


Rushing Wind (Keith Green)

Rushing wind blow through this temple,
Blowing out the dust within,
Come and breathe your breath upon me,
I've been born again.

Holy Spirit, I surrender, take me where you want to go,
Plant me by your living water,
Plant me deep so I can grow.

Jesus, you’re the one, who sets my spirit free,
Use me Lord, glorify, your Holy Name through me.

Separate me from this world Lord.
Sanctify my life for you.
Daily change me to your image,
Help me bear good fruit.

Every day you're drawing closer.
Trials come to test my faith.
But when all is said and done Lord,
You know, it was worth the wait.

Jesus, you’re the one, who set my spirit free,
Use me Lord, glorify, your Holy Name through me.

Rushing wind blow through this temple,
Blowing out the dust within,
Come and breathe your breath upon me,
For I've been born again.

Just Do It

Yesterday I went to visit my friend who is now in a rehablitation center. L went with me, but the room was hot and she was coming down with something, and so she excused herself to go out and get some fresh air. On her way she met "Bob", an 82-year-old WWII vet who is dying from lung cancer. In the short time that she visited with him, she sure learned a lot about him and it was interesting. I think she plans to go back to visit with him some more.

In church this morning, Dennis got up and gave us a word about just having God's heart for the people God brings to us. A while ago, at our ladies' meeting, a woman spoke about just reaching out to her neighbors, just touching that little bit of her world, bringing God's light and love to her little corner. This seems to be a theme that we are hearing over and over this year!

It occurred to me that L didn't HAVE to accompany me to visit my friend, but she did. And God was able to use her to touch another person simply because she was there and she wss 'connected' and she was willing to have God's heart for a stranger.

May we have the capacity this season to slow down and really see the people around us, and to have God's heart for them, and to be His hands and His mouth.