Do You Know Him?

There was a man who went to his doctor for his annual check-up—to pacify his wife, who was a worrier. Waiting for test results, he fidgeted, bored, and was eager to get back to his desk for more important matters. Then he was called in to the doctor’s office for his report and be on his way. However, to his surprise, the doctor handed him a referral slip to a specialist in a huge hospital in a town some miles away.

Grumbling at further intrusion on his day -- indeed his week, he insisted he felt fine and refused to follow up. Huffing irritably, he went on his way. If he hurried, he’d have time to pick up coffee and a couple of Danish and still make his next appointment. Enough time wasted pleasing his wife. He’d risk a little heartburn, just a little snack to celebrate. Maybe his wife would relent on her health campaign and stop hovering, now that he’d seen the doctor.

A voicemail arrived from the doctor. He deleted it.  A couple of days later a note arrived in the mail. He discarded it. He was fine; he’d know if he had a problem. He didn’t need someone telling him how to live. He was capable of taking care of himself; he wasn’t one of those weaklings who leaned on someone else. He preferred to look out for himself, period.

Perhaps you’ve heard this story or can guess his outcome.

Or perhaps it sounds familiar because someone in your life has been placing church bulletins under your nose, leaving you telephone messages from some friend in her church, hinting about some destructive habit, something that could endanger your life, a bad example they say could lead your children astray or land you in trouble if you don’t seek help.

What if they are right?

           

More on Giving and Receiving, Taking and Losing

One Friday long ago I came home from work to find glass from my back door scattered across the patio and the door standing open.  I didn’t go inside, because someone could still be there, looking (unsuccessfully) for a cache of things he could pawn; instead, I went across the street to a neighbor’s house to call the police.

After declaring the house safe, they left and I went inside to check on my little Shadow, a little schnauzer/terrier, and found her safe but trembling in fear under a bureau. Somehow in desperation, she had scrambled under a six-inch space she was barely able to squeeze out of, now that she was safe. She remained traumatized for a week and trembled at the smallest unusual sound.

When I took stock, I found nothing missing that affected my daily life—even my new microwave, a modest TV and record player were undisturbed. Nothing that I’d have to replace for daily living--all that was missing was my mother’s wedding ring, pearl and silver earrings my dad had brought me from Japan, a solitaire ring from my father-in-law and my 4^th anniversary gift, a Navaho turquoise bracelet (that had outlasted the marriage). And I needed a carpenter to repair the door frame—when the thief kicked in the dead-bolted door, the lock didn’t give way--the door frame and a bit of wall were ripped too. One might think that now living alone for the first time ever, I might be especially fearful, knowing how easily someone could break in, but God’s presence was there, day or night always.

When my aunt asked what I’d lost, she became very emotional about the terrible loss of Mother’s ring so I quickly terminated the call. I couldn’t sink to helplessness or fear. A deacon in my church, owner of a construction company, came Friday evening to nail the door shut and repaired it Saturday. I was safe and the repair wasn’t a huge expense. I suddenly saw this episode in a new light.

Whenever my aunt began to moan, trying to get me to grieve along with her, I explained  that since I had been divorced, sold “our house” and bought a smaller one, I had gratefully told God that I considered the house and everything in it His and I was happily His steward in residence.  The few things taken from this home left in a thief’s pants pocket. They weren’t mine so I would not grieve for the loss; they were God’s. Wherever they now were, they were still His. And I wouldn’t stand in the shoes of that thief for riches far beyond their value, when God came to collect what was His!

In the years since then, at various times God brought me someone needing a place to stay for a weekend or a few months and He provided them refuge in His house and His peace filled it. Since I became unable to live alone, the proceeds of the sale still provide for me. My aunt? I regret she never learned what I had learned—the peace of knowing God truly can be trusted for life before Heaven! After her husband died, she kept his closet intact; she refused to give away his suits to a charity where "some dirty bum would wear her husband’s clothes until they fell away in dirty rags". And she slept fearfully the rest of her life, unaware that God was keeping her safe.

The Art of Giving

                                                

     Several decades ago, when my girls were small and eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival, I hit on a plan to enlist their help in cleaning their closet and toybox and train them in the valuable art of giving. After all, if Santa Claus peeked into their room and saw the mountain of toys, where would he leave their new ones? Next door? Across the street? Would their stockings be empty Christmas morning because Saint Nicholas would believe they were greedy, having all those toys and still wanting more? 

     So around Thanksgiving we began the family tradition of sorting through toys and clothes they had outgrown or grown tired of, but were still attractive enough to make someone else a little happier on the holiday. Giving away a beloved toy is a hard sell, even with the trade-off of knowing there are more to come very soon, but the girls enthusiastically approached this project without tears--until they saw those long-forgotten toys so attractively perched in cartons leaving the house. And I got a cleaner, clutter-free house for the holidays. 

     Through encouraging my children to learn to enjoy giving happiness away, I learned a thing or two also, lessons that became embedded in my heart. It all relates somehow to the Biblical  promise that His children shall become as vessels of living water, which didn’t sound all that significant to me until I heard a preacher describe the difference in the quality of water in a flowing river and a stagnant, smelly  pool, dammed up, no longer releasing any water. 

     Water flowing freely is purified as it travels and shares itself all along the riverbed, whereas by holding onto what it has, the stagnant pool deteriorates and its water becomes polluted and no longer a blessing.

     My goal in giving is not to receive more for myself, but to learn to become a conduit, readily sharing what is given to me. The benefit to recipient and giver is clear and ongoing as each one shares, as illustrated in the movie a few years ago Pay It Forward.

     Although I give with an open hand; God gives with both hands and my hand is still open to receive and share again. Whether or not the gift is appreciated, giving blesses me. Whether the recipient  receives a blessing with my gift is not my responsibility; it depends on  the openness of his heart to be a blessing to others. 

     After thinking about the principles involved, I concluded this is a fairly effective way of dealing with life: discard those things, habits and attitudes that ill serve you and make room for growth and blessings in return.

Food for Thought

“Food for thought" is no substitute for the real thing”

On the Cooking TV Network I heard someone say that this morning.  This was his humorous promotion of the upcoming cooking show. But as I listened to his words, I realized His words could lead to a more important truth, depending on what “the real thing” meant.

In the world, “Eat, drink and be merry” is a common call. No thought required for that. Yet thought is extremely important for long, productive, satisfying life: “Look before you leap” means “think before you act” and doing so can save a lot of missteps which lead to disaster.  

What we think casts a longer shadow on our lives than what we eat and is therefore more important.

 

         Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever 

         is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--    

        think about such things.                  Philippians 4:8















food for Tjought

Mind Your Own Business

Most of us live our lives as though it’s nobody’s business what choices, what life decisions we make. After all, it’s a free country, right?  The heart wants what it wants and why shouldn’t our own happiness be our goal? It’s nobody’s business what we do. Everybody has the “right” to do as they please—or is that true? Even our nation’s constitution guarantees our rights only to the point they infringe on others’ lives.

When I was young, I thought the Old Testament was basically a history of the Hebrew nation.  Like the comic books I read, there were monsters and superheroes that put the welfare of others first and saved the day. It was thrilling to imagine there could be heroes like that alive today, to save us from monsters like Hitler. How could these stories pertain to our world today?  Maybe the Old Testament is more than a history of the Hebrew nation.

As my understanding of this world and the next grew, I learned that the heroes in the Bible were not a separate breed of men with super powers, but ordinary men who sinned, doubted themselves, then trusted in God’s guidance and made themselves available to Him, resulting in miraculous changes in their lives and the lives of those around then. Doesn’t that mean it’s as current as the daily news program on radio or TV?

Today Dr. Charles Stanley talked about two such men—one a king over a wealthy country, who believed he had divine right to take what he wanted and a man raised in Egyptian   royalty, exiled for murder, a fugitive who had lived 40 years as a shepherd far away. God arranged for his return to rescue some two million Hebrew slaves. Why didn’t God pick someone who could command the respect of his adversary, someone well known, someone so powerful that pharaoh would listen to him?

No contest surely. Through Moses, God gave pharaoh many warnings of great trouble which would affect the lives of those ruled by pharaoh, which he felt free to ignore despite the danger to his citizens.  His comfort, his wealth, his international fame were his goal. And despite fulfillment of a series of increasingly painful plagues suffered by his people, his heart was hardened against this Moses upstart, this nothing little shepherd who dared to defy him, and this God he spoke of. Until the death of his own son—then he was suddenly eager to have this pesky group of slaves gone. God made it clear, by choosing Moses, that the results of this battle would bear witness to His all-powerful hand raised against this evil king, not that of any man.

Pharaoh’s pride and greed were his choice, but his people paid the price in pain. most of us  have at least one sin we cling to, believing it is no one else’s business—just between us and God. He knows his children will stumble as they go and is ready to forgive, but any sin we refuse to give up stands between us and God, at our peril.

But each of us has someone watching us, perhaps heartbrokenly watching and loving us, or God forbid, following our example in life. Do we really want to carry to Judgment Day the additional burden of their pain or loss of faith?

Yes, Lord

The most important words I ever said. And blessings poured into my life day by day, year by year from His bounty without measure, often unnoticed, always at the best time and never too late, regardless of how impatiently I waited, as I gradually learned saying yes saves a lot of heartache and wasted effort.             God blessed me with a memory equipped to recall many decades of situations which could have been crushing and seemed to hover far too long for comfort and although unseen then, cleared the way for more blessings. Perhaps not a solution I desired at the time, but often now I can see the delicacy of His loving hand adjusting bits of my life, perhaps taking away some bits I’m better off without, or the occasional ‘pop quiz’ just to prove I’m listening, as He taught me I can trust Him. Completely. All the time. Always.             Time and distance often help us to understand God’s planning—not always though. Sometimes, reminding us He’s King, Master, Father, He does not explain. (His world, His rules.) Remembering and enjoying beauty and love in all the good things I know about Him, I can accept that I have no right to demand answers. I just remind myself to say daily “Yes, Lord”. I trust in what I know about Him; I can trust the unknown to His loving, all-powerful hand.             Anytime I tried to handle trouble by myself, bitterness took root. Yet seen from a great distance, no anger or bitterness remains from the past, all seen through eyes filled with His love. The only sadness I feel is regret over how slowly I grew as I gradually, so painfully slowly, and the opportunities I missed along the way.             I’ve had my ‘last word’; I pray whenever you reach your last brief time in this world, you can look back at a lifetime filled with God’s blessings.

On the Rarity of Boldness

      

          I remember when I was a small child in church that a preacher often got so excited, so filled with passion, that his voice rose to a shout as he paced back and forth with such urgency in his voice, such emotion, that even so small a creature as I could not ignore what he was saying. In fact one preacher (J.. Frank Norris, a local fire-and-brimstone preacher in the 1920s-1930s, whose church grew to fill a city block ) inspired such emotion in my own father that his strong feelings led to rebellion and he rose mid-service, grabbed my hand and dragged Mother and me out of that church, never to return. 
            My dad rebelled at hearing the fate of a sinner described so vividly and darkly. His view of God was purely love toward mankind. So far as I know, Daddy stayed away from church services for the next decade. Years later, he said he couldn’t sit and listen to someone talk about a God who said He loved us and yet condemn sinners to such an eternal, infernal fate. Yet Jesus spoke of Hell three times as often as He did Heaven. If God the Father is real, so is God the Judge, who will sentence any who refuse to accept His pardon, given at the expense of the Perfect One, who sacrificed Himself, accepting the death penalty our sin requires. Both Heaven and Hell are real or Jesus was not who He said He was and there is no Heaven, indeed no God! 
            I wonder whether as time went on many pastors, seeking popularity perhaps, had trouble explaining away this truth and began to avoid this aspect of God and rather began to emphasize in their teaching discipleship, a form of self-improvement intended to bring us closer to a loving Father.  Even while telling us we were saved by God’s grace through faith He planted in our hearts, I wonder if we listeners hear only that we need to improve to enter Heaven, not hearing the part about no one ever becoming good enough without Jesus paying our penalty. 
           We often seem to think of Holy God as dispenser of Good things, a doting Grandfather and less often remember He is a Judge who hates any sin (He doesn't grade on the curve) and who dispenses final judgment. One day His patience will end and His invitation will be withheld, Heaven's gate will be shut, leaving us to our choice: an eternal future without Him and an eternal penalty to repent, without hope. 
            A precious few preachers now seem to sense that time is short; there is a boldness in their message which demands our full attention. Self-improvement is not why God left us here in this sin-filled world—if we loved others as we do Him, we would be shouting about the dangers ahead for those who deny Him as Lord. This is not the time for timidity, tolerance of evil around us.
            One has described our behavior as that of a surgeon who could heal our disease, but fears bad news would offend his patient, fails to offer the cure or even tell us there is a cure, and lets us limp forward with a prognosis of sure death. Yes, surgery is painful, but better than the alternate. Or a fireman sitting in the firehouse, ignoring the blaring alarm which signals imminent death for some unknowing victim, or a highway repairman failing to signal a collapsed bridge ahead. 
            The one thing we can do today which cannot be done after we leave this world behind is to share God's love and warning to those around us, whose coattails are already smoking.