Smelling Creosote

I woke this morning to the sweetly reminiscent smell of creosote—reminiscent of all my childhood years lived in close proximity to the historic Weston Canal, having to cross the Canal bridge with its creosote laden piers many times a week— for mail, for church, for the baseball field, for school day lunches, for just about everything of importance…ah yes, the smell of creosote. We are moored at the dock on Vancouver Island where we purchased our boat.

I wake to the scent of creosote, the dancing of reflected light on the V-birth ceiling, the subtle slap of water on the bow. No gnats in the night, no stifling stillness. It has been a good sleep. Eggs, bacon and bagel fried on deck to order. Brilliant sun, rising breeze, clear blue skies… the town awakes beyond the shelter of the harbor.

I'm reflecting this morning on the power of gratitude— to free us from the gremlins of bad dreams, bad moods and plain old self centered quagmires, to keep us from the discontent which so readily spawns a subtle idolatry of craving 'more', and to deepen our confidence and hope in the unseen which is our true inheritance.

Gratitude resets our thinking to the realities beyond the felt and seen. When I wake disgruntled from some inane dream there is no better antidote than giving thanks. This morning it is easy, beginning with the smell of creosote and the dance of light's reflections… But more than this, once I run out of tangible sensory things, a conscious gratitude takes me beyond the seen and felt to my true inheritance. These are the unseen realities that will keep us from cravings that will ruin us.

As we blew into port yesterday, bouncing in a bit of turbulent water created by competing tides and wind I was reading about 'winds of doctrine' (Eph.4:14) besetting the church in our day, 'varied and strange teachings' (Heb.13:9) that have become commonplace in churches, replacing grace, replacing sound teaching, replacing the Gospel. The author suggests that our modern quest for tangible 'spiritual' experiences is not unlike Esau's demand for pottage now to quell his appetite. In so demanding he 'sold his birthright for a single meal' (Heb.12:16)

Basing his book on his own experiences and his own years of comparing Scripture with current practices, he makes many wise observations, but that is the stuff of a future book review. As I turned back to Scripture myself I was struck by the passage in Hebrews comparing the Israelites' experience of God with what we have been given. It begins: "For you have not come to what may be touched." (Heb.12:18) Mount Sinai was all about the tangible—blazing fire, darkness and gloom, whirlwind, trumpet blast, and audible words. What was the people's response? It scared them to death and they begged not to hear or see, but to be given a mediator between themselves and God.

And this Mediator is precisely what we have in Christ. He is the image of God's glory, revealed to us. He is our high priest, our mediator, the One by whom we have access to God—the God who 'knows what you need before you ask Him'. The passage in Hebrews goes on to describe in lofty language our inheritance—"the city of the living God", the heavenly Jerusalem, myriads of angels, "the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven", and to God, the Judge of all, and to "the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant"…(Heb.12:22-24) We have all this. But how much of it is visible here and now?

How difficult it is to wean our souls from wanting more than we perceive that we have, from wanting that which we can see and hear and feel. But surely gratitude is a first step in that direction. And that is how this passage winds up. First it reminds us that what is unseen is also unshakeable. When all else is destroyed, (as will be these bodies and all their senses,) the unseen Kingdom of God will remain…"Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe; for our God is a consuming fire." (Heb.12:28)

So as I sit and smell the creosote, and feel the warmth of sun and freshness of a sea breeze, I will give thanks and then keep on giving thanks till I have gotten beyond the tangible to that which is unseen but forever sure—my place among the righteous made perfect in the heavenlies with Christ Jesus, the Captain of my Soul.

--LS

Indebted to Grace

The older I get the more of a 'Calvinist' I become—the more grateful for the sovereign grace of God. As my energy and idealism mellow with age, I look back at the first fifty years and see a trail of grace I may have once mistaken for the product of my energies. All the really good things, the key decisions, the best choices, the surprising and rewarding trails I've traveled have been God's doings. I only followed His lead. Where is there room for boasting, about anything?! This role I play in life, it's all a gift, His calling, my privilege.

How did I get to be a Grandmom? A mother? A wife? A child of God? How did I get to be born?! I can look back and see the choices I've made but the stringing together of opportunities to make them, this I could not do. And where did the propensity come from to make them one way or another? I could not know that in saying 'yes' to one thing, I would be saying 'no' to a host of other things and getting myself into a whole 'nother set of things… And God only knows how much I have to be grateful for. I've only scratched the surface of seeing things as I ought. And that too is grace…

O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be…

What of the hidden hazards that could have tripped me up given my naivety and yes, my self-will? These are only visible in retrospect, some of them anyway. A hidden Hand graciously spared me the trauma they would have caused. I see these things when I look back. I am a Grandmom now, entrusted with carefree little people who blithely trundle down the road of life as though it were a safe place. They hold my hand and expect that all will be well. They have few fears, little knowledge of what could happen. They just trust and take first steps… and sometimes their sin-bent wills say 'no' and try to do things their own way. Here too they need a hand to guide them into the way of right-eousness… and as I'm learning they are too: It's always best to say "Yes" to the one who knows what's best and sees beyond my small horizons… and to trust Him to lead me in  paths of righteousness, for HIS name's sake.

I am reminded of an old Sunday School song: "I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever". The fitting response to grace is gratitude. The more of grace I recognize, the more grace-filled I will be—not just at meal-time when we 'say grace'! All of life is by His grace. In all of life God is worthy of my effusive gratitude, whether I recognize His mercies at any given moment or not.

The alternative is to focus my will to strive for God's favor, to beg for 'blessings' (like a child for lollipops at dinnertime), to pout when He says 'no', and to scheme of ways to 'ambush' Him into giving me my 'due' as though He owed me something for all my efforts. Children in grocery stores do it all the time. The 'children of Israel' in the desert did it too. They whined and fussed and demanded to be fed what they wanted when they wanted it. They were not grateful. They failed to trust in their Father's care… they did not know His ways and so they missed His very best for them. Failing to learn the fear of God coupled with the love of God they were destined to die in the desert.

And as I shepherd my grandbabies along city streets, training them to walk on sidewalks and look both ways before they cross…reminding them not to demand but to say 'please' and 'thank-you' and wait patiently…and most of all grinning and smiling and applauding their antics, loving and playing, pushing the swing and making play dough together…I give them a hint of the fear of God and the love of God. His discipline and His favor, hand in hand, which I pray will shepherd them all their lives long. And I rest in His Sovereign grace that has been lavish in my life and will be just as sufficient for theirs. Oh to grace how great a debtor daily we all are constrained to be!

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.

{Listen here as Chris Rice sings it.}

--LS

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Rom.5:1,2

Beyond Personality—Who I am, was and will be…

--some thoughts on 'self' for children of the King—

In an era shaped by much ado about self, the Christian ideal of 'death to self' sounds harshly inappropriate if not wrong! What could it mean? Are we not made in the image of God, creatures with great creative potential, dearly loved and desired? Of course we know there was 'the Fall' marring that Grand Design but then there was also the Cross whereby a way of redemption was bought and now all those who have been 'united with Christ in His death' (Rom.6:5,6) are said to be new creations, alive to God, and empowered by His Spirit to walk in the good deeds prepared for them in the foreknowledge of the Creator… So what to think of 'self'? If my destiny is to be Christlike, do I still get to be 'me'? Is 'self' something to shun or to celebrate?

On the one hand there are many things that could be affirmed to be true of me as a new creation in Christ. There are lists of such affirmations, mostly beginning with "I am…"  I am accepted. I am secure. I am significant. I am free. And under each of these is an array of Scriptures to prove their validity. (This has been done in a lovely Calligraphic form here.)

But as a friend pointed out, shouldn't we be a little wary of the emphasis? Is it so important who I am? Shouldn't my focus be on who He is, i.e. the Great I AM! All these things may be true of me, but only because of Him. Apart from Him I am in fact unacceptable, insecure, insignificant and in bondage to sin, even if self-help programs buoy me up to believe otherwise! Is it me I need to celebrate or Him?

Another friend rightly comes to the defense of self as the essence of all that makes me unique, the very gift of God to me, not the enemy, but the canvas on which God paints His glory! She rejoices in God's design, trusting Christ to do the alterations as needed, celebrating life in the meantime. What do I say to that? Am I so wary of 'self' getting a foothold on my affections that I cast a wary eye at all my comforts and little joys rather than enjoying them with gratitude? Can I celebrate the 'me' I am on the way to becoming the 'me' I shall be when I see my Saviour face to face? Do I dare?

These are thoughts I've been casting about in my mind this week. I don't have all the answers. I suspect it is a matter in part of defining what one means by 'self'. Am I called to despise all that makes me uniquely me, the 'fearfully and wonderfully made' creation knit together in my mother's womb and then shaped by training, circumstance, and destiny under the guidance of God's sovereign Hand. I think not. Who is the clay to say to the Potter, 'why have you made me this way'?! (Rom.9:20) Am I called to submit all that I am-- the 'good', the 'bad' and the 'maybe someday', to God for His pleasure and pruning. Yes, that too.

I've been lapping up C.S. Lewis lucid thinking in "Beyond Personality" (Part IV of Mere Christianity). In a chapter titled: "Is Christianity Hard or Easy?" He differentiates between the 'natural self' and the person we become in giving over our whole selves with all their wishes and precautions to Christ for Him to fill and transform. Lewis says it will do no good to insist on being 'ourselves', intent on our personal happiness on the one hand while striving to be 'good' on the other. We are called to perfection and only Christ can do that in us as we lay aside self's insistence on its own thoughts and listen for His. There is at once the seeming hardship of 'Take up your Cross and follow Me' and the promised ease: 'My yoke is easy, and my burden light.'

Lewis pictures it this way. Trying to be good while yet 'ourselves' is like an egg trying to fly! "It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. [Ha! Can you picture it?!] We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad….this is the whole of Christianity." (169) He comments elsewhere: Christ came not 'to torment your natural self but to KILL IT!' (167)

Now I realize Lewis is primarily speaking here of the self before we have surrendered to Christ, but I do wonder whether there is relevance still to us as believers. Do we not tend to lapse back into 'trying to be good', striving to do 'good works', working hard to 'be pleasing' in our own steam? Unwittingly appealing to the energy of our old self in an effort to be new selves! I know I do. The Galatians did too: "Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?" (Gal.3:3) It seems to me 'self' is always at the ready to step up to the plate and try for a 'home run' that will redirect God's glory to self. Even as I am 'in Christ' I find my 'natural self' is not silent. I need these reminders to surrender everything I am and am not to Christ. So I continue with Lewis' thoughts on self:

'The more we get what we call 'ourselves' out of the way and let Him take us over, the more truly ourselves we become.' (189)

He says that all we are intended to be is 'waiting for us in Him'. And we need never fear a boring uniformity of personality in being 'like Christ' anymore than Light makes all thing appear identical or Salt makes all foods taste alike! (188-89) Lewis brings out the idea that no matter how many 'little Christs' (as he calls the believer being conformed to Christ's image) there may be, it will still be too few to express Christ fully. (189) I like this idea. It reminds me of the Body imagery of Ephesians 4. Each of us is an integral part, necessarily unique, to the completion of the Body of Christ. In this respect the proper functioning of each 'self' is crucial to the whole. Seeing myself in relation to the Body also draws me away from hyper-focusing on 'who I am'. I can't determine this in isolation anymore than a Nose put away in a box can determine its worth or role in life. It is needed by the Body and only connected with it will it become all it is meant to be!

The alternative is to try to 'be myself' without Jesus. Ironically, as C.S. Lewis suggests, 'The more I resist Him and try to live on my own, the more I become dominated by my own heredity and upbringing and surroundings and natural desires. In fact what I so proudly call "Myself" becomes merely the meeting place for trains of events which I never started and which I cannot stop. What I call "My wishes" become merely the desires thrown up by my physical organism or pumped into me by other men's thoughts or even suggested to me by devils…I am not, in my natural state, nearly so much of a person as I like to believe: most of what I call 'me' can be very easily explained. It is when I turn to Christ, when I give myself up to His Personality, that I first begin to have a real personality of my own.' (189)

So perhaps this is the place to get out the party hats, call together our friends and celebrate what Christ has done in each of us!

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But, if you don't mind, before the party I offer this overview of my understanding of the Bible's teaching on:
WHO I AM, WHO I WAS, and WHO I WILL BE…

By Design
I'm created in the image of God—designed for fellowship with Him! This makes me distinct from the animals, possessing not only a body but a spirit and soul designed for communication with others and with God. Because of this design I have ability to create, not from nothing as God did, but from the grist of God's creation—inspired by its beauty, supplied with its materials…Because of this design, I have inherent value apart from anything I am able or not able to accomplish. This 'fearful and wonderful' design (Ps.139) is what makes the unborn child, the demented adult and the severely incapacitated individual of equal value with the most beautiful, intelligent, or otherwise capable person. Our value is inherent, not earned. [Contrary to popular cultural thought and practice]

By the Fall
The image of God in man was marred. The spirit was pronounced dead and the body doomed to join it. I was made the enemy of God. Fellowship was severed and impossible to fix without intervention by Someone other than myself. How did it happen? The most beautiful and talented angel wanted to usurp God's position. He was not content to be a creature, but insisted on being recognized, glorified and worshiped. His fall precipitated our own when he tempted our ancestors to trust their own instincts instead of God's words, with the lie being that they too could be like God, running their own lives. I was born a rebel intent on being the center of my universe.

By Redemption
The Father still seeks worshipers, still wants fellowship, still has our best interests on His heart. So He gave us Jesus to take on our human form—to sample our situation and taste of our estrangement and ultimately to suffer the death we rightfully had coming so that we could be restored to fellowship with the Father. He invites us to know His ways and do life His way. In fact He offers to be our life. By His Spirit I am made alive to God, a new creation. The fellowship is restored and the image of Christ in me is being recreated by His Spirit as I behold Jesus. C.S. Lewis refers to our transformation this way: "This world is a great sculptor's shop. We are the statues and there is a rumour going round the shop that some of us are some day going to come to life." (140)  In one way redemption is a done deal. I have been redeemed and given a new nature, my sins forgiven, my pardon signed. And yet I still live in a body bound for the grave. My complete redemption is yet future…

By Resurrection/Adoption
I am one who has been bought with a price and called therefore to 'glorify God in my body' (I Cor.6:20) This I do imperfectly for my body houses a nature at odds with my 'new man'. Though rendered powerless it cries out to be served. But one day my body too will die and with it this old self. I will be fitted with a new resurrection body untainted by sin. When this mortal puts on immortality I will not only be with the Lord forever but will perfectly reflect His image. This is my great hope and the hope toward which all creation looks—the revealing of the 'sons of God' (Rom. 8:21) and the summing up of all things in Christ (Eph.1:10) That will be glory!

Let the party begin!

--LS 

‘Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.’ I Jn.3:2

For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. Eph.2:10NLT

In Him also we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to His purpose who works all things after the counsel of His will, to the end that we who were the first to hope in Christ would be to the praise of His glory... Eph.1:11,12

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Quotations taken from Mere Christianity by C.S.Lewis. MacMillan Publ, 1960, 190pp.

My Last-born Treasure

Well, it's been quite a week…may have started with a sag in hormones, but a bunch of things conspired to exacerbate the situation… Being the time of year that homeschoolers assess what's been accomplished (and what's been missed) in terms of academics, I was in this mode well before Rachel requested to see Micah's old writings. Oh boy. That was like opening a kettle of fish.

You see, Micah, our firstborn, was a prophet in his day. His portfolio, tucked carefully away in my closet, holds candid exposés of life as he experienced and perceived it in the Skelton household. The hurts and injustices, inconsistencies and hypocrisy are skillfully outlined in the form of essays and plays, written too accurately to miss or brush aside. There I am in all my glory (not!) trying to manage a household of jostling students who also happened to be my flesh and blood and bear my imperfections… The age comes when one's offspring are more apt to 'rise up and call you blessed' but this was not that age. The assessment I got was honest. And convicting. God's arrow to arrest us in our steps and help us to begin adding grace to the running of our household. But change takes time…Micah left the nest with his own custom baggage. This is not easy to face as a Mom, who wants only to live to bless her children, to love them well, to prepare them for their futures with good things… But the kettle was opened.

Add to this the feelings of nostalgia and regret that inevitably accompany digging through old school books. I had a phone call from a younger homeschool mom in the midst of this, asking for advice and recommendations and I was having a little dig-about to see what I could share… So many books we've waded through together. So many good memories. And always, so much left undone.

This would all be manageable if it were all history, but the writing of our history is not yet complete. You see, Rachel has yet one more critical year of school to finish, and I am VERY aware of this fact given the time of year we are at…Just a few more weeks of this year and then just o-n-e m-o-r-e y-e-a-r in which to teach her all she needs to know before we wave goodbye and she flies off to Bible school…Talk about pressure. And all these good books, so much potential learning, so much to cover, so much to think about…How are we gonna do it?! Too much to bear.

And then came Monday morning at breakfast over our customary Monday-cream-of-wheat. Rachel hadn't yet joined us. I opened my mouth to put in words the pressure I was feeling and the restless night and tortured waking thoughts, and well, the dam broke…I took my toast and tea and retreated to unload my heart...

'To you, O Lord, I call
my rock, be not deaf to me,
lest, if you be silent to me,
I become like those who go down to the pit.

Hear the voice of my pleas for mercy,
When I cry to you for help,
When I lift up my hands
Toward your most holy sanctuary…' Ps.28:1,2

And this is where Rachel found me when she popped her head in to ask what to do with my cold bowl of cream of wheat! Weird, seeing Mom with a blanket over her head all curled up in a ball…praying… for Rachel, for us, for the years locusts have nibbled on, for mercy, for forgiveness, for strength and wisdom, for HELP!

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul…let me not be put to shame; Indeed none who wait for you shall be put to shame (Ps.25:1-3)

"Who is the man who fears the LORD? Him will he instruct in the way that he should choose. His soul shall abide in well-being, and his offspring shall inherit the land…" Ps.25:12,13

Praying for Rachel. My fearfully and wonderfully made last-born—this delightful child that undoes any sense of competence that I may have gained with the previous five children…delightfully herself, and so very different than her mother in many ways. She is my dreamer, a visionary that can see teddy bears as potential companions for orphans or old folks if I could just help her get an Organization rolling…She dances along with visions of sugarplums --the potential of all that could be, while I, pre-occupied with the fine print, run into barricades! She composes fiction like it’s the most natural thing in the world while I labor to ferret out facts and put them in order. She doodles in bears of every describable pose and occupation, while I look for models to painstakingly copy. We are different.

She loves to be celebrated; I prefer to be inconspicuous. She thrives on anticipation of 'exciting' things to come; I on the rhythm of the commonplace. And she knows how to SMILE and to HUG and to quiver with delight! "Are you excited Mom?!!" How many times have I tried to explain that excitement throws me off balance. I'm happy in a quiet way. I try not to look too far ahead, on purpose, so that today's business is not sabotaged with the emotional energy of anticipation… Makes no sense to a dreamer. So here we are in my 'old age' trying to figure each other out. Daily companions. Teacher and student. Mother and daughter. Improbable friends for a season of my life that might otherwise be bland and predictable…

And into this difficult day comes an essay by Rachel, inspired by her brother's of yesteryear perhaps… to be read aloud to Mom… You should know that Rachel's been reading Our Town, the play by Thornton Wilder. Do you know it? It's an extraordinary piece studied by generations of high schoolers for its unusually ordinary theme—the preciousness of everyday life. There is no particular plot. It takes place in a little-known small town where generations have lived and married and died without fanfare. And it poignantly reminds the reader how precious is each moment and detail of ordinary life. Sometimes only in the loss of a thing, or of life itself do we realize what we have had…

“Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover's Corners... Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking... and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths...and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you.”

"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it -- every, every minute?” ( from Our Town, Thornton Wilder)

So given that backdrop, here's Rachel to read me her daily piece of writing…

"As she walks out with her teddy bear tucked beneath her arm—the last thing in the house she had found hiding in the closet, she pauses at her room, remembering… [a host of words followed that evoked the return of my tears] …She's leaving this place, leaving for college. Her child-ness is gone. She's grown up. She smiles at her teddy bear."

Oh my! I escape to vent my tears only to hear a knock at the door instead and here's that young mom in need of some good books and homeschooling advice! Oh my! What treasure I've been entrusted with. It can't be time to wave the flag of surrender. Still there is a task at hand. Still a treasure to enjoy, and experience to share.

"Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord…(Ps.27:14)

"Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame." (Ps.25:3)

The week began like that. But one and another little thing have lifted my perspective back to waiting in anticipation of how God will see us through. One sweet conversation was part of that. Rachel shared with me her 'take' on how to be happy, no matter what comes… She watches morning by morning as we swallow our 'happy pills' (Vitamin D). She'll have none of it, just laughs that it's a mere placebo effect that makes us think we've braved the gloomy winter months on account of Vitamin D. Not her. At the start of 2011, she says, she decided she was going to be happy, no matter what the weather. And she has done it. Every morning she comes down to breakfast smartly dressed in her new 'business style' skirts and tops, her hair neatly put up in a girlish swirl. She eats, clears dishes and gets right to her school work. You wouldn't know she doesn't enjoy school. She just gets down to it. 'If you always wish for the weekends you'll waste your life just wishing for them,' she says. The same goes for the days that look 'fierce and scary'… you don't have to worry about them till they come. "I believe Grace will come when you most need it, not now just worrying about it." And she compared it to not needing the ticket for the plane a year ahead, only when it's actually time to board…

I wished I had recorded her words, just got the snatches she wrote down later. But there was something she said about smiling (she's always smiling!). She said something to the effect that 'I just go through the day thinking that everyone is smiling at me'! Well if that won't make a person happy! I think there's something to that. Maybe everyone's not smiling, but the One who matters most of all IS smiling when He watches us. That is something to live by! And maybe I'll learn to smile through my days yet with this Treasure under my roof. Bless you Rachel. You are God's gift to me!

There were other things that lifted my spirits…a vigorous tandem ride, getting out to weed the garden, taking time to paint and draw, reading Words of encouragement, the advice and loan of books by a friend, repenting, and putting action to good intention…but I will close with the words of a hymn that filled my thoughts one morning and turned my heart from hesitant 'unworthiness' to joy. It goes like this:

Arise, my soul, arise! Shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding Sacrifice In my behalf appears.
Before the throne my Surety stands; My name is written on His hands…

He ever lives above, For me to intercede;
His all redeeming love, His precious blood to plead;
His blood atoned for all our race, And sprinkles now the throne of grace…

[I had been reading Leviticus 10 and thereabouts. What a graphic picture is this laying one's hand on the head of the animal that is to be killed because of your sin, and then having its blood splashed on the altar. So serious, this sin. 'without shedding of blood there is no remission' of it!]

Five bleeding wounds He bears, Received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers, They strongly plead for me;
"Forgive him, O forgive," they cry, "Nor let that ransomed sinner die!"

The Father hears Him pray, His dear Anointed One;
He cannot turn away The presence of his Son;
His Spirit answers to the blood, And tells me I am born of God…

My God is reconciled, His pardoning voice I hear;
He owns me for His child, I can no longer fear;
With confidence I know draw nigh, And "Father, Abba, Father" cry…

If you haven't heard Twila Paris' rendition of this on her Sanctuary CD, don't miss it. Jim has posted it here.

May its message haunt you with hope as it has me!

"Blessed be the LORD! For He has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped;  My heart exults,  And with my song I give thanks to Him." (Ps.28:6,7)

--LS

Thank Goodness!

“Thank Goodness!” Countless times I’ve said this with little consciousness of its meaning. It’s usually uttered with some sense of relief that something has worked out well, (at least from my perspective!) but with no real acknowledgment of who I owe my thanks to…

Yesterday I came across this historical tidbit, President George Washington’s 1789 proclamation creating the first official American “Thanksgiving Day”. I’m impressed by its bold statement of the need to acknowledge God as the source of all good things. Allow me a patriotic moment and have a read-along:

Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor, and whereas both Houses of Congress have … requested me "to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God”… Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be. That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks, for his kind care and protection…, for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his providence…, for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed... for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us…

Wow! How far we’ve slipped in the acknowledgment department!

I’ve been considering some familiar verses in Proverbs: “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” (Prov.3:5,6) And of course the preceding ones that give the context: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.”

Following my own understanding will likely NOT lead me in a straight path. Things I perceive as good, may in fact be very bad ideas. Things I oppose, may be a part of a bigger plan God is weaving... But if in all my ways I will learn to acknowledge Him…I’ll be led in straight paths, ‘where the good way is’, the walk that will bring rest to my soul (Jer.6:16).

I was chewing on that word, “acknowledge” this week. What does it mean? A standard dictionary would say it means: to recognize the existence of, to express recognition of, to express gratitude for, etc. Sort of a “Yes, Lord, I see you there. Thanks.”   But when I looked up the actual Hebrew word, there’s more to it.  [Don’t miss the wonderful resources   BLUELETTERBIBLE offers ad-free!]

The word translated ‘acknowledge’, is “yada”. It means ‘to know’, to learn to know, to perceive, find out and discern…It involves knowing by intimate experience, learning to recognize… God desires that we “acknowledge Him” in all our ways…learn to see His hand at work, begin to perceive Him in everything. Reminds me of Paul’s challenge to the Philippians to work out their salvation with fear and trembling because it was God who was at work in them to accomplish His good pleasure (Phil.2:12,13). This is our God, the One that is at work often unseen, but inviting us to see with spiritual understanding the work that He’s doing.

He longs for His people to understand His way of working. Psalm 95 has that haunting finish to an otherwise joyful celebration of God’s excellence: “For forty years I loathed that generation and said, ‘They are a people who go astray in their heart, and they have not known my ways.’” He accompanied them through the wilderness. Did they not comprehend He was there though unseen? That they were ‘the apple of His eye’, the object of His unflagging devotion? Did they really think they’d been abandoned just because they got thirsty? They did not understand His ways, that though they might be physically in a wilderness, He was committed to providing everything they truly needed and to using their walk with Him as a testimony to the nations around them, for His own glory.

So I come back to my own life, the everyday-ness of it. Acknowledging His active presence in my every moment is a beginning. In the mundane, in the traumatic, in the slow grind, in the delightful…do I perceive He is with me, in me, for me, working out His purposes for His great glory. Will I acknowledge Him in this moment, as I write, as I read…present, working, shaping all things for His great glory? This is holy ground. My actions become a kind of worship. This body a living sacrifice offered as I type, as I put wood on the fire, as I help Rachel with grammar, as I create a pumpkin pie and pop the turkey in the oven shortly…when I acknowledge Him in all my ways, in all the moments of my days, life becomes worship of a God who is forever Good, and forever worthy of my gratitude.

“Let us come into His presence with thanksgiving…let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the LORD, our Maker!” Ps.95:2,3

“Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for His steadfast love endures forever.” Ps.136:1

May [we] be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God… Col.1:9,10

--LS

P.S. I highly commend to you Ann Voskamp’s faith-stirring devotional on “Why every day begs to be Thanksgiving”. Beautiful, as her posts always are.

And for a musical accompaniment to these thoughts on acknowledging God, try this glorious hymn sung by Fernando Ortega: Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation.

Oh, and HAPPY THANKSGIVING! no matter what piece of the globe you reside in!

What was it Like?

Do you remember when you became a Christian? Can you tell in a single sentence what it was like? It seemed a simple enough question to pose to a congregation of believers. But when individuals were pointed out to give an answer, my mind went scrambling for words. What was it like?

I’ve always considered my ‘testimony’ to be a rather boring thing, lacking the before’s and after’s of more dramatic accounts of meeting Jesus. In fact, my memory serves me so sketchily that I have few particulars of the occasion. Perhaps that’s why I am an inveterate journal keeper. I have boxes of assorted journals, mostly informal spiral bound versions, but way back in the beginning, there was a little black “One-Year Diary” with a little latch and a key. That was the first one. I guess I was about 10 then. And that’s the one I cannot find today. It’s the one I hoped would say what it was like when I prayed to ask Jesus into my heart. I know where it’s supposed to be. Its green twin from 1974 used to lie with it. But now just the green one is at hand. It talks of puppies and riding bikes, of picking strawberries and going to Girl Scouts…And laced throughout are mentions of reading my Bible…when I got up, when I was afraid after watching a movie, and when I was trying to ‘catch up’ with my OneYearReadThru plan… I was twelve then, growing up in a sheltered Christian community, Christian school, close-knit church, Christian parents and grandparents and cousins, aunts and uncles…What was it like in this context to ‘become a Christian’? I feel as though I’ve been one all my life.

But there was an evening at the altar one balmy summer’s night… It was ‘Campmeeting’ week. Nightly services for the faithful. Lots of hymn singing. Exuberant marching around the pews sometimes-- exulting in prospects like ‘Beulah Land’ and ‘marching on to glory with the faithful few’. Energetic preaching and always an altar call. Those were the days of real ‘altars’, well, long wooden backless benches up front where people knelt in rows to pray aloud after the service. And that’s where I ended up one such night with my two childhood friends, twins I’d known since Kindergarten. An old saint of a lady named Mrs. Wolfram knelt beside me and asked me if I’d ever asked Jesus to be my Saviour? I don’t remember just what she said, only the sense that Jesus had died for me personally and I could personally acknowledge this and he would be my Saviour.

Now I look back and wonder what I really acknowledged that night. Did I understand all the implications of depravity and repentance, of humility and grace? I doubt it. I was good little Lindy, the quiet pupil with straight A’s and little to add to the report card but “Linda needs to speak up in class.” I was a pleaser belonging to a community that excelled in measuring goodness by conformity to certain standards. Praying at the altar was the right thing to do. Asking Jesus into my heart was the obvious thing required of me in this setting. And that night I was ‘saved’ along with my friends who said their prayers somewhere along that bench. What was it like? Was I filled with rapturous wonder? Was I ecstatic? Was I transformed from that moment on? Thinking back I only remember being happy. My outgoing friends were more demonstratively so. We celebrated by running outside in the summer darkness to share our joy.

I woke up this morning with an old Sunday School song in my heart: “Happiness is…”  Do you know it?   It goes like this:

[Press CTRL and click to listen] [or, for the happy wordless version listen here.]

Happiness is to know the Savior,
Living a life within His favor,
Having a change in my behavior,
Happiness is the Lord.

Happiness is a new creation,
Jesus and me in close relation,
Having a part in His salvation,
Happiness is the Lord.

Happiness is to be forgiven,
Living a life that's worth the livin',
Taking a trip that leads to Heaven,
Happiness is the Lord.

Real joy is mine,
No matter if the teardrops start,
I've found the secret,
It's Jesus in my heart.

And that makes a pretty good summary of my own testimony. A simple one, more of a continuation in the path I’d been born into really. Not remarkable in most respects and yet… When I consider this God who humbly accepts such a child’s prayer, when she in all likelihood doesn’t comprehend His glory or her need... Who chooses her to have a heritage of believers preceding her and surrounding her…Who preserves her from being tempted or drawn into a world of sins she never samples…Who bears with her in her prideful self-righteousness, her silly legalisms, her deficient capacity to love well…When I consider this God inviting me to know Him and waiting as I grow into what that means… I see a remarkable story in the simplest of testimonies.

Later I would question my salvation when I compared my ho-hum existence to the enthusiastic inner joy and unconcealable delight my best friend found when she asked Jesus into her heart one night at Youth Group. What did she see that I’d missed? Every morning she’d bring to school a little snippet of paper with a verse on it that thrilled her, in hopes that we could exchange verses. Her enthusiasm was contagious. I prayed privately just case I’d missed something the first time around welcoming Jesus to re-ignite the joy of my salvation and was soon just as ‘fired up’ about the Word as she was. I look back now and see her friendship as His mercy, drawing me back to my first love…

There were other strategic moments, quiet transactions with this God who was for me a wonderful shepherd. He met me in my insecure shyness and brought me gently along, to trust Him, to commit my days to Him as His bondservant, to do things I can only look back at now in wonder at what this quiet least-likely-to-leave-home girl would do with such abandon. Who’d ever heard of Alberta, Canada? How did I end up there for my last year of highschool, leaving the classmates I’d spent over a decade with, leaving family and beloved woods and sheltering church community…confidently following my Shepherd? This too is my testimony.

It’s a quiet one of circumstances woven to shape my life despite my inherent foibles. Of the Spirit bearing witness with my spirit that I am His child. And always, of this Shepherd drawing me to know how much He loves and forming in me a heart to love Him more. I haven’t had dramatic experiences, terrific revelations, or awesome visions. His Spirit moves quietly and unseen. I see my testimony in Peter’s words:

“Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” I Pet.1:8,9

And my mind scrambling to compose a succinct testimony to describe ‘What was it like’  is calmed and settled. This joy of being personally related to the One who knows me most and loves me best is inexpressible—not meant to be circumscribed entirely with words and passed around like the latest news. It is not the ‘feeling’ of the moment that counts, but the long getting to know my first and best True Love. As the service ended that day, this song played and sang for me my heart’s own song:

“First Love”

[I highly commend it to you for a listen. May your heart sing along.]

Although I am changing You’re unchangeable oh God

You will be my first love, be my first love

And for all the changes that You lead me through oh God

You will be my first love, be my first love

Every morning when the sun comes up

And every evening when the day is done

You will be my first love, be my first love

Even when You fill my heart’s desires

Even when You are consuming fire

You will be my first love, be my first love

Although I am shaken, You’re unshakable, oh God

You will be my first love, be my first love

So let my idols crumble You’re unshakable oh God

You will be my first love, be my first love

May every day and every way I live bring glory to You Lord. (x3)

Be my first love. –Jeremy Horn

---------------

“Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears  we shall be like him, because we shall see him as He is.” (I Jn. 3:2)

May every day and every way I live bring glory to You Lord,

--LS

What Now?

It didn’t start out being such a good day. I don’t like getting out of bed. It may be May but it’s still cold and my internal heater doesn’t kick in till toast and tea and oatmeal are in the tank…But getting up is critical if I’m to catch the quiet hour before everyone else is stirring and looking for breakfast. Hmpf. Everyone. These days that means just Jim, Rachel and me. The nest isn’t empty but the fledglings are mostly out and about in the work-a-day world and come home only to roost. Which has something to do with why today didn’t start out so very well. Seems my life’s calling is undergoing a radical shift and I’m not sure I’m ready or able to do the manual transmission thing in real life. If it’s all up to me to figure out and get in gear… well, I’m a little uneasy about that. Once upon a time life happened and duty demanded a response.

I watched a sweet video today of robins feeding their demanding young. No sooner was a worm shoved down the chute then the baby bird demanded more. Baby birds are like that—dependent on parent birds to supply their every need. The sad picture was when the nest was suddenly empty and mommy bird returned with some berries, but alas, no mouths to put them in. She dropped the berries in and just perched on the edge running her beak about the nest absent-mindedly as if she were thinking “what now?”

Good question. Meals are scarcely needed. Leftovers last too long. Laundry does itself it seems and noone’s home to make the incessant clutter that used to offer a full-time option for idle hands… What now? I don’t mind ‘free time’. I’ve always coveted it. Tis a luxury to read a book, or better yet to have time to study a book and make notes and write commentary and journal and read some more…I am at heart a student. Fortunately Rachel lets me help her still with Algebra. That helps. I get to do a little Grammar too. Science I could do without but I keep being forced to learn along with my student. That’s good, I suppose. So is this my calling? Studying. (And a little teaching on the side.) But to what end?

Gardening. I love digging in the dirt, watching seeds grow, and even weeding, to a point. But to what end? Is it a waste of time in view of eternity? It’s time consuming to keep up a garden and really more a hobby than a practical gain…

Hiking is good. Capturing pictures, a delight. Savoring creation absolutely inspires me. But for what useful end?

Well, you get the idea. I’m a mom working myself out of a job and into a new stage of life. It’s not like it’s an unheard of dilemma, but it is a new prospect for me and some days I don’t like it. The routine is less routine. The critical tasks are less critical. The need to get out of bed is debatable on occasion. A less introspective person would go with the flow, enjoy the opportunity to find new uses for time, and revel in the freedom of an uncharted day. Sometimes that’s me. But the ‘responsible’ me lurks just beneath the surface questioning whether I’ve spent my time well, invested my ‘minas’ properly, gained eternal benefit from my day, made the best uses of my energies. It’s beastly. Have I done enough? Am I wasting my life? What am I supposed to be doing?

My best friend and ever-wise counselor suggested I look at my situation with a different question in mind, rather than coming at it from a position of doubt, assuming I couldn’t possibly be doing what God intends for me to be doing… why not consider
1) What if I am doing everything I’m meant to be doing? Or even one step further, consider my unrest and discontent as perhaps indicating something else:
2) What if I’m taking on (whether mentally or actually) things God never designed for me to do—things I only think that I should do?

Oooo now that strikes closer to home. I am the grown replica of a Grade A First grader who always set out to meet teacher’s approval but acutely remembers a coloring page that was met with disapproval. I had colored all the tidily stacked squares in an array of bright colors as per instructions (or so I thought) but something was somehow wrong with the way I’d done it. Must have missed an instruction. It was so confusing to see her frown and not understand where I’d gone wrong. The feeling of it sticks with me to this day. And the lesson:  Follow the instructions. Don’t dare to strike out on your own or color in the wrong boxes…. But alas my life at present looks like that big mimeographed sheet of empty squares waiting to be colored upon. And alas, there are no instructions at the top. Can I really do what comes naturally or would that be selfish? And what is the Teacher saying?

Some days it’s ok to sit in bed a little longer and consider these things. My answer this morning was this: “Walk by the Spirit and you will not fulfill the lusts of the flesh.” The Spirit is my teacher. The sheep hear the Shepherd’s voice. He promises to lead His sheep. I too can learn to listen and to follow His lead…I am not destined to be a confused First-grader with crayons in suspended animation. I can color to His glory. ‘Lead me in paths of righteousness for Your name’s sake, Lord.’

A second confirming response came with the first song that played as I started getting breakfast ready. Gulp. How obvious, and how needful to hear this right that moment:

“You and I are made to worship.
You and I are called to love.
You and I are forgiven and free.
(When) you and I embrace surrender,
(When) you and I choose to believe,
You and I will see who we were meant to be.” (Chris Tomlin)

Here’s the big picture. I’m called to worship God with my life, to celebrate the forgiveness and freedom He’s given, to surrender my life to Him and trust Him to lead me into all He means for me to be. Where’s the pressure in that?!

But you know, I seemed still to need a ‘pick-me-up’ by mid-day, with afternoon looming full of uncharted potential but short on energy. And it came in an unexpected way, with a calling that drew me right away from my dreadful introspection. I had a short e-mail waiting from my Christian brother on the atheist forum asking if I would send a message to a new person that had appeared and was in need of advice. This was the plea he called to my attention:

I'm 16 years old and i fear death. It's coming to the point where it's all i think about. Up until about two years ago you could consider me a Christian, my family members are all Jehovah's Witnesses. I started questioning my faith after reading many books such as “The God Delusion” by Richard Dawkins, The Greatest Show on Earth by Richard Dawkins, and "God is not great" By Christopher Hitchens. I've also read a lot of discussions on this site on matters such as Creationism and Evolution.

I've come to the point where one could consider me an atheist. But i miss being a Christian, i really do. I miss knowing that my late loved ones were in heaven and that there was nothing but good things coming for me after death. I miss not having to worry about things such as the meaning of life, or if my life has any meaning at all. Some days i just try to believe in Jesus and God and the bible, but it's just not the same. My question is is there any hope of anything other than an oblivion of nothingness after death? If not, how do you cope? Do you just not think about death, or have you come to accept death without fear ( if so how).

Please help, if not i fear the worse, going back to being a sheep.

Suddenly it didn’t matter if I knew my ‘calling’ in a general sense. I knew it for this afternoon. To pray for this lost sheep and to write a note of encouragement… And that was enough. I was reminded my life has purpose and God will weave it into others’ lives as He sees fit. That’s His business. Mine is to walk in the opportunities He gives. And literally, I did just that—put on my jeans and headed up Scout talking to God about this one He’s pursuing, asking for wisdom to respond, and singing His praises for such a time as this in my life!

--LS

P.S. Thanks for listening to my moaning... (and not laughing at the thought of me worrying about an empty nest when my house is really still quite full!  God must chuckle sometimes too.)

If you love a great home-made video, this is it—complete with empty nest… Click here for the baby bird video:

My Granny Squares

Change of pace needed—this week a post from the me that is ‘Grandmom’.  With winter giving way to spring, days growing perceptibly longer, nights shorter, and the sun shining unexpectedly to lure me out of doors, I suddenly realized that with all the reading and writing that fills my evening I hadn’t made time to finish up my last winter’s project—a scrap quilt.   Summer is for gardening and sailing and all things outside.  Winter for the cozy things—the curling up with books, the knitting, and the new found craft of quilt-making. 

For years I have saved scrap fabric.  Once-upon-a-time homemakers sewed clothes for their children and it was actually cost-effective, (besides being cute!) to see all the girls in matching dresses, or the toddler in home-made overalls.  Wedding dresses were made by mom and in our case the wedding suit by Jim’s mom.  All that by way of saying, I used to sew clothes and what a horde of scraps I had accumulated always intending one day to make a quilt of them… A fledgling effort years ago to piece a complicated square out of random fabric types was near disaster.  So then I thought, well, maybe a fabric ‘book’ will do, one that I can hold on my lap while I sit in my granny rocker leafing through it and telling all the stories the colors and textures evoke…

Well, now I’m a ‘granny’ and neither as old nor as frail as the granny I’d envisioned.  I do have a rocking chair, but I tend to have a computer on my lap more often than not when I sit here.  And in the meantime looking over Rachel’s shoulder at 4-H quilting club I learned the basics of putting together a quilt.  So  I reverted to the original idea of a quilt, a lap-size one (to go under the computer on my lap on cold days!)  and all the pieces came out of the closet and eventually found their way into this quilt I’m now binding.  I will spare you the agonizing decision-making process it was to design a quilt worthy of the inclusion of all these ‘antique’ and precious, albeit mismatched, scraps.  It’s a regulated version of crazy, but for better or worse, it’s together and lap-ready.  Now who’s ready to hear the stories it evokes?

…of courting days—the summery striped top—the hot summer days in N.Dakota where we walked many miles hand in hand and ended up engaged…The floral curtain fabric jumps us way ahead to our first home—an old mobile home given to us by friends who couldn’t sell it!  We loved it well and somehow squeezed all (then 6) of us in...

But wait, we’ve missed the wedding gown scrap, juxtaposed with the velvet ‘going away’ jacket, and the dresses of two girls  yet to come…


Then there were the first maternity clothes— I wore that burgundy calico top to death!



A  new set of summery stripes dressed mom and firstborn son in matching tops.  He looked so grown-up in a real shirt…


Then there came ‘Nany’ in the recycled dress made from a gaudy old blouse found at the ‘boutique’ for free!


And growing up in the dress that matched my own (and Teddy’s)…



Christmas was the time for new nighties for the girls…

Flannel of course…pictured here with their room curtains, and the bathroom curtain—always flowers!  I remember the day a friend pointed out that I sure seemed to like flowers.  Doesn't everyone?  I had assumed so until then.  This preference definitely shows in my fabric scraps…


Here, more dresses and some craft stars and stripes that went into a Christmas quilt ornament.  That was the year I decided to make an ornament for each of the kids every year, so they’d have a set to leave home with… Nice idea.  It happened a few years anyway…Note the teddy fabric, the beginnings of all-things-teddy for our last-born…


This fabric marked  the beginning of the end of sewing for the girls.  My personal tastes in flowers resulted in a jumper altogether unflattering in full bloom!  It was never completed, leaving me with lots of fabric with which to border my crazy granny quilt!





And here the ‘granny’ sits remembering all that God has done for her and in her and through her… and letting it stoke the fires of her faith and her future hopes. “His faithfulness is a shield and buckler.” (Ps.91:4)
And I consider my calling as a ‘granny’, and a mother-- to pray for these young ones and the nearly grown ones—“let your work be shown to your servants and your glorious power to their children.  Let the favor of the LORD our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!” (Ps.91:16,17)




And what more I will be called to be and  do, I do not know, but it will be stitched with God’s mercy and goodness—and bordered all ‘round with flowers of grace!

“The righteous…still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, to declare the LORD is upright; He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him.” (Ps.92:14,15)


--LS

Blessed--in plenty and in want

Blog due today, after a week of only nibbles in the Word.
When I have not heard His voice, I lose my own.
The crumbs I have to share grow stale.

After a week of relaxing and reveling in sunshine and lovebeams I am turning over one of these ‘tidbits’ in my mind again.  It seemed so out of place to contemplate in the midst of our happy holiday.  I turn to it again to make sense of its ‘blessed’s and ‘woe’s.   Luke 6 is the passage-- Luke’s abbreviated version of the Sermon on the Mount:
Blessed are the poor, the hungry, the weeping.
Blessed too the hated, excluded and reviled…
And introspective me threatens my happy lot by asking, ‘Am I these? Shouldn’t I be?’

Having had the wealth to take a holiday, buffets sufficient to stave off any sign of hunger, and delight that took us far from tears and sadness, I wonder, ‘Am I these? The poor? The hungry? The bereft?’ And a niggling of guilt drags at my satisfaction.

The woes that follow feel uncomfortably applicable—
‘Woe to you who are rich’ (you’ve got all you’re getting)
‘Woe to you who are full now’ (hungry times are coming!)
‘Woe to you who laugh now’ (heartbreak ahead!)
‘Woe to you, when all people speak well of you’ (that’s how their ancestors talked about false prophets!)
And I reflect on these truths and wonder how they fit my days.

I have been banqueted and cosseted, lavishly loved and romanced, not only by my life’s true love but by the Lover of my soul.  He fills my life with such tangible tokens of His love.  He knows the very desires of my heart and meets me there.  His words come to me in the night “I delight over you with singing”.  I am finding that not only is God not opposed to pleasure but He actually delights in my delight. He fills my life with good things—not just food and frills—but His presence and His smile. 

So why the twinge of guilt as if I’d opened a forbidden present, when in fact I have only enjoyed the lavish banquet He unbegrudgingly set before me?

Have I unwittingly believed that anything delicious, delightful, or in any way seductive is bound to be wrong and best avoided?  Is God in fact romancing my heart while I have held tight to ‘self-denial’ in the name of holiness?  Have I spurned His gifts in an effort to forge my own standards of perfection?  And can I say ‘yes’ to plenty, to beauty, to pleasure… “Yes, and THANK-YOU!” without regret?  I am learning, with wariness. I have been blessed.  I have been made rich.  I am loved beyond measure.  And, I have been entrusted with good things that can turn my heart from its true home.  The warnings of Deuteronomy 6 come to mind.

10 "Then it shall come about when the LORD your God brings you into the land which He swore to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give you, great and splendid cities which you did not build, 11 and houses full of all good things which you did not fill, and hewn cisterns which you did not dig, vineyards and olive trees which you did not plant, and you eat and are satisfied, 12 then watch yourself, that you do not forget the LORD who brought you from the land of Egypt, out of the house of [fn4] slavery. 13 You shall [fn5] fear only the LORD your God; and you shall [fn6] worship Him and swear by His name. 14 You shall not follow other gods, any of the gods of the peoples who surround you, 15 for the LORD your God in the midst of you is a jealous God; otherwise the anger of the LORD your God will be kindled against you, and He will [fn7] wipe you off the face of the earth.

How do I avoid the blight of becoming ‘spoiled’, demanding more, or becoming enthralled with the gifts and losing sight of the Giver?

These things too I consider and I give thanks to the Giver of every good and perfect gift. I think this is the key to contentment in plenty and in want.  It is the preventative for becoming a spoiled brat.  It is the antidote for the shock of coming home to normalcy and responsibility.  Giving thanks, in everything.  This is the will of God for me. In thankfulness I can partake of plenty confidently without guilt or misgiving.
  
I woke one night from a ‘LOSER’ dream.  In this dream I could do nothing right, could not please anyone, could only cause trouble and leave others wishing I were not there…  What a welcome relief to wake and turn my thoughts to ponder instead this One who loves me as I am, wants me always with Him, lavishes His love on me and declares me perfect.  He takes me, holds me, and enters my life to recreate it whole and new and beautiful.  All faults I see, my sins, are all in time, but He is timeless.  He sees the End from the Beginning—perfection, holiness, the finished product.  He is happy, well-pleased, satisfied. And when I awake from the dream that is this lifetime, I will behold His glory and be like Him—just as He created me to be!

And as for the 'problem' of the ‘blessed’s.  Matthew amplifies:  Blessed are the poor in spirit…those who mourn…those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.  Theirs is the Kingdom of God, the comfort of God and the satisfaction of being filled with God.

God does not begrudge His children’s pleasure.  There is no inherent holiness or blessing in poverty, deprivation and misery.  There is holiness in yielding my days to the Lover of my soul, receiving His gifts with gratefulness and giving thanks in every circumstance that comes my way, because He is with me in it.  There is blessing in loving Him with all my heart and soul and mind and strength—in presenting my body a living sacrifice for His glory.

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Ps.16:11 ESV

Could it be that my capacity for experiencing pleasure is actually enhanced by knowing the God who designed me and following His instruction manual?  That’s a thought for another day.  For today, I’m full of smiles at the memories made in this season of plenty we were given, and I’m thankful ( :

“I will bless the LORD who has counseled me; indeed, my mind instructs me in the night”.

--Ps.16:7 NASB

--LS


May I invite you to take a moment to consider this lyrical and tender rendition of a beautiful piece of music that expresses my heart today... [just click on the link below and enjoy. Note: If a "Face Off" advertisement comes up first, take heart, it's short and the song is worth the wait]
What am I Without You by Twila Paris

My Mantra

"...chosen and expressly named to give thanks to the LORD, for His steadfast love endures forever." (I Chron. 16:41)

Though this verse is pulled from a context far removed from ours, does it not describe every child of God, chosen from before the foundation of the world to be God's very own holy and blameless possession?!
In its original context the ark of God, "which is called by the name of the LORD who sits enthroned above the cherubim", has just been brought back to town (Jerusalem!) after a long exile in the land of the Philistines.  It had been delayed in coming when the first parade home ended in the death of the man driving the cart that carried it.  After a temporary home-stay with Obed-edom whose whole household was blessed because of God's presence, the Ark was properly brought up to Jerusalem on the shoulders of the Levites. A great celebration of thanksgiving was had, complete with raisin cakes and meat and bread for all!  Now at last installed in its tent in Jerusalem, this symbol of God's presence was again residing with His people.  When the party was over a chosen set of men stayed at the tabernacle along with the priests, among them  were Heman and Jeduthun with their trumpets and cymbals to make 'sacred song'.  The celebration wasn't over because God's love  wasn't over.  It endures forever. There's always a reason for sacred songs of thanks! [See: I Chron.16]

I'm thinking that's partly why I write--to make note of God-sightings, evidences of His love in my life.  I find the more intentional I am about looking the more I see. 

This week I've been thinking how thanks makes a fitting mantra for every saint because God's steadfast love endures forever.   A constant mouthing of thanks is a relevant part of 'praying without ceasing'.  If we are not to be anxious in any situation but to present our requests with thanksgiving doesn't that mean we'll be brimming over with thanksgiving all day long?  For as much of the day as there is apparent cause for concern there is room for thanksgiving.  Our God, the One 'who sits enthroned above the cherubim' , the One who is 'mighty to save', the One who has the very hairs of our head numbered, this God, who is with us, for us, and living in us... He's got us covered.  Thanks is always apropos.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!  According to His great mercy, He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that he tested genuineness of your faith--more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire--may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.  Though you have not seen him, you love him.  Though you do not now see him, you believe in Him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls."  (I Pet.1:3-8)


I wish for you and yours a sweet celebration of thanksgiving today and all through the coming days as you make thanks your mantra to the God whose love endures forever.

And as you sight His acts of lovingkindness, be sure to share them with a friend--"Sing to him; sing praise to Him; tell of all His wondrous works."
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Thanks for stopping by!
--LS 
"In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." I Thess. 5:18

Just say thank-you

I woke thinking about a story I read yesterday--the one about the ten lepers who were cleansed on their way to show themselves to the priest. Only one came back to thank Jesus (and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet besides!), at which Jesus responded--'where are the nine? Was no one found but this foreigner who returned to give glory to God?' and the man was commended for his faith and told that his faith had made him well--literally had 'saved' him!

It seems to me there is a significant relationship between gratitude and faith. One gives evidence that the other is there. And from my experience, even a speck of gratitude has the potential to increase my faith. For example...when I begin to feel stressed or anxious about something, if I will straightway begin to thank God for the situation and His knowledge of it, and His ability to direct my steps with regard to it... I can sense my faith begin to grow right then and there from that little seed of gratitude. For me, breathing out 'thank-you Lord' audibly (quietly) and continuing to thank Him makes me begin to focus on His ability for the situation rather than my confusion or distress. And then I begin to trust Him to direct me, to provide solutions. And He begins to make a way where moments before there seemed to be no way. I guess that's part of the reason we are instructed to present to Him our requests with thanksgiving whenever we are tempted to be anxious. It works. It changes my attitude from doubt to faith. Try it. It works. Just say, 'thank-you'.