Looking Back, Looking Forward

            If you live as many years as I do, I pray they are a joy, not a burden. Simply put, I pray you chose God, our Living Father, as your Companion, Teacher and Savior. That’s the only way I know for you to reach your last days on earth contented, eagerly awaiting your homecoming to the mansion He has prepared for your eternity with Him and your family who preceded you in claiming their place with all the Saints from the beginning.

            Just think what a thrill it will be to meet even one person, your favorite that you’ve read about in your Bible! To ask Elijah how his faith could have been so quickly swallowed up by fear for his safety just after he had called down rain, then fire from heaven to consume his sacrifice to the Living God after the hundreds of heathen priests had failed! Or to thank Mary for her meek obedience to God’s call to bring forth the Savior who redeemed us all.

            And to greet old friends, whom you now learn to your surprise and joy, did not ignore your fervent words about this Lamb of God who gave Himself to share eternity with anyone who asked.

            This world and all its challenges, pain and fears will fade from your memory and seeing loved ones you had been missing, even visits with the wise King Solomon or Paul, who brought, for the first time, Life to Gentiles—all these thrills will pale at sight of Christ Jesus, who loved us so.                         I can hardly wait! 

   
     



           

A Bad Day

 Feeling rained on? Having a terrible, horrible, no-good day? STOP! Take a deep breath and look around. What’s going wrong? Think: what’s behind the mess you woke up to today? Surely you haven’t done something you regret? Look in the mirror and examine your heart for any misstep. Forgiveness is only a breath away, and the discomfort fades fast. Sometimes God sees us heading for deep water and puts a stumbling block in our path.

Nothing comes to mind? You’re pure as the proverbial driven snow—this time. Maybe things have been going so great you felt unbreakable and now you’re shocked to find trouble still knows your zip code. Have you shown gratitude for those good days provided by your Creator or have you begun to think you’re smarter than you already decided you were? Has He gone silent lately, thinking you had forgotten Him?

Since we humans tend to talk to God only as a last resort, sometimes it takes a little “special effort” for God to remind us He’s there, waiting for us to look up. Sometimes we willfully make a poor decision and before rescuing us, our Lord lets us experience a teaching moment, reaping a bit of the chaos we’ve sown. A parent often chastises a thoughtless child and a classroom does have tests.

Not you? You’ve probably been praying daily for some time about your spiritual growth, wanting to offload habits holding you captive, or you just want to know God better. You can’t find God’s campus anywhere in your Google search and you’re just not fond of the preacher at the church around the corner and there’s no spirit summer camp. You’re frustrated—why hasn’t He sent you a text or voicemail message?

You have faithfully prayed and listened and waited—and nothing! In the meantime life moves on and you haven’t noticed any change. But God lives outside of time (He created time, remember?). Maybe your clock isn’t in synch with His, your perception is skewed. Maybe He decided to teach you patience and grow your trust through roadblocks you’ve been blaming for the delay in your progress.

Had you been keeping a prayer journal recording your most fervent prayers over time, one future day weeks, months or years later as you reread those pleas for growth you realize many habits you once struggled with are faint memories, your rush to anger is gone or at least dimmed. On that day you would see how far you have come from your former messy life and could see more clearly your final destination in the Home being prepared just for you in Heaven.

Free from Gravity

            This January it was time to replace my power-lift recliner. I have already worn out three. But I now needed a little more help, something easier on my miserable old knees, something to improve the quality of my sleep and add a little more comfort to my days.

            And found it. At a price I formerly thought I never would have paid for both a sofa and chair. And after sitting down in it, I didn’t even ask the price for such a (miracle?) chair! I had seen zero gravity chairs in luxury catalogs but never aspired to own such a Cadillac caliber place to park myself. When I compare my lot with many other retirees who need but could not buy the comfort they need, I am blessed beyond all reason in my family, my pension and Medicare, enabling me to live so comfortably.

            And as I weightlessly (and at my size that’s a miracle, folks) float back into a reclining position, it seems to be a metaphor for my last decades as I gradually moved forward and closer to His image, more deeply in love with Christ Jesus, who so greatly loved me and so very gradually, faithfully began to change me, oftentimes without my perception. All my little changes, occurring bit by bit, imperceptible to me as they took place, unaware of any movement as I now am while gliding ever so slowly toward the desired place I need to be.


            Thank you, Lord.

           

My 3 a.m. Conversation with God

 Usually, I like to think of myself as an encourager—in writing, at least.  Face to face, I don’t come across like that. In person I seldom seem to get deeply involved with individuals; maybe because I’m not around other folks a lot and the truth is, I’m deep into my 80s now; I don’t know many people of my generation and there are none close by, so there’s that ugly phrase “generation gap”.

I was in my 40s before I began to learn to connect with people, and even then, my written words proved more effective. After all, it’s only in the most recent decade of many that I have seen myself clearly enough to admit at last that I was average at most things, inferior in others and excelled primarily in only one: the use of written words. With pride now limited to one area of my life, pride must be limited to only this one small area of my life.

My usual blog entries begin with bits of my history at a time when I learned a new spiritual truth, and as I find myself going back to reread them and reminding myself, relearning those life lessons (all too soon forgotten in the hubbub of daily life) and admiring the words God gave me to share. I guard against ego which would have me marveling at my insight at having answers to life’s problems. I know I don’t, but I imagine my reader may have as short a memory as I and might also appreciate a reminder.

As I write--and reread--these words, I can hear my Father’s voice, (not mine). When a computer glitch wipes out a page of His wisdom, knowing my unreliable memory can never retrieve those words, I breathe an instant prayer and begin typing and often the page is somehow quickly redone, often better than the original!        

At 3 a.m., however, a news reel before my eyes documents details, decades of repeated failings and my unkind thoughts toward people whose actions I disapprove of, (regrettably long after I invited Jesus into my heart) and instantly I remember that loving “the world” or “mankind” can’t replace love for an individual, misguided or heedless though they may be.  Who am I to think I have answers for others? My heart races as I wonder if I’m a sham, a hypocrite pretending to be His child? When I see Him, will He turn me away as a deceiver? And I feel the chill. 

Yes, I have experienced many miracles and blessings, but were they the result of someone else’s prayers for me, rather than my own prayers being heard? Why don’t I pray more? Why do I dare judge people no worse than I? When dawn arrives, usually I can dismiss the late-night attack and move forward, doing what I know how to do and praying for my life to grow more pleasing to God. And put aside--until the next assault on my faith--any doubts I have, and remember a phrase I began to use some 40 years ago: Don’t doubt your faith; doubt your doubts.

The morning I listened to Dr. Jeremiah’s Overcomer broadcast and Peace flooded my spirit as I received God’s reassurance. I was reminded of the disciples and the people God used mightily in their weakness. I remembered my blog about hypocrites. I had written “I am a Saint-in-Training. If and when I behave like something else, then I am a hypocrite”.     

           

Lessons Learned by Looking Back

            Looking back, way back, I can see the overall landscape I walked through more clearly than I could when I was stumbling through dark days in a fog of worry, which I nurtured as though it was a treasure. Think of the famous picture of two pairs of footprints in the sand, changing to one pair illustrating those times when instead of walking with you, He carried you through the worst times while you were unaware. Now I can see His footprints next to mine.

            Throughout my life, I managed from time to time to get a new glimpse of this great God who created me. Each new insight seems to overwhelm me for a time. Until I get used to this new kernel of knowledge. Before long, I seem to file away that new aspect of my Holy Father, and too often begin waiting expectantly for another crumb to drop from His table. In a way, it's as though I'm climbing a ladder, except I tend to doze off instead of reaching the next level.

            On looking back, I can see myself slumbering through daily life on autopilot when I should have been eagerly looking for the Lord’s next revelation and praising Him for the blessings already filed away.

            When I actually take time to inventory the riches provided by His love, my eyes are filled with images proving His provision, His power, His passion for His creations: a bird in spring bringing food to her hatchings, a bee who somehow knows to collect pollen from a flower which results in honey, a busy ant working in concert with its army as an example to me to be more industrious. All these things remind me of His loving care and make me feel safe in His arms. I’m comfortable and familiar with this God.

            Other images remind me of His great power and my heart thuds in my chest to see signs of God’s power: a mighty waterfall roaring over a cliff, a lightning streak burning anything it touches, crashing thunder vibrating in the pit of my stomach, a tsunami (thankfully experienced only through a film), the nothingness left behind a tornado, the comets whizzing through space toward earth which He diverts and saves our world while we cruise through our day unaware of the dangers swept away from our path.

            And yet most days I go through my day, barely remembering to say hello to my Heavenly Father and forgetting, ignoring the great punishment this same God could bring to me (which I deserve) and the horrific punishment Jesus suffered so I may escape my fate.

            I startle in horror when I am suddenly aware of Almighty God. How dare I ignore His presence, His ownership of this world and its inhabitants? I comprehend anew this God controls my very existence, my next breath of air, and His great love is equaled by His standard of perfection. How can I daily live as though ignoring Him is an option?  Our next world, whether a palace in His presence or locked away forever in an eternal fiery darkness, will depend on whether we honor and obey, or turn away from His hand reaching to bring us to safety.



            He says, "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be 

           exalted in the earth."                                       Psalm 46:10 New American Standard


            Notice He doesn't say exalted "by My people", He's talking about all of us on that day, believers

            or not prior to Judgment Day. He is a fierce God, an awesome. fearsome God to those who 

            don't answer His call. Ready or not, it's coming!

    
            It is written: "'As surely as I live,' says the Lord, 'every knee will bow before me; every 

           tongue will acknowledge God.                      Romans 14:11, New American Standard

    
          He says give me your heart now; waiting for Judgment Day will be too late! Hosanna to the 

          God of All There is!

A Mother's Love

My heart is so heavy, I don't know how I will ever rest again. How can I sleep when all my hopes, my expectations for my family's future have been dashed to the ground? We'll be laughing-stocks; no one will respect any of us again. And why? Oh, God, how can I bear this? The sweet taste of honey in my mouth is replaced by bitter gall. The pain of childbirth is nothing compared to this. No more joy, the future holds nothing but heartbreak for me. 

Childbirth. Ah, that pain was tempered by anticipation of joy. Besides, there would be an end to it. Not like this pain, which will pursue me until death and beyond. No ointment, no opium can still it.Such hope, such celebration, to finally give birth to my darling girl. Such companionship we would share as she grew. I would teach her all those things a Godly woman must know, all the skills she would need to run her own household someday. I would receive honor through all her successes, all the wisdom and good works she would accomplish throughout her life which loomed brightly ahead.

God! How dare you repay my reverence with such betrayal? The wicked should be punished, yes, but your faithful servant should be esteemed by those around her, should receive the reward she is due. Why did you not send a lightning bolt through my heart and finish my suffering? Do you really expect me to carry my head high as I travel through the community, to continue to be an example of purity and loyalty to the other women in church? Who would listen to anything I say now? Why would they believe I know anything worth their attention? They turn their eyes away from me now as I pass them in the street, they avoid speaking comforting words to me. 

All the hours I spent on my knees in prayer, all the hours in community service in your name, wasted! I could have taken my ease at home rather than working until my back cried out, my legs turned to jelly, with a sweet smile still on my lips, gladly helping others in times of trouble, dispensing encouraging words to the heartbroken. Where is my comfort, my help, my encouragement?  Look to the Lord", I'd say. "We may not see until eternity why these things happen, but we must trust that He knows best." Trust! Such piety. My own words reproach me, lie in my belly like a cold fire. Perhaps faith is only there when you give it away; maybe it's not something you can keep and count on. All is lost.

Even my own husband is silent. There's no comfort there. He tries to go on as though the world had not ended, but when our eyes meet, I'm scalded by the reproach I see. I have failed as a mother, as a woman. It's difficult for him too; I know that full well. But these things are a mother's responsibility, guilt adds to my burden. Besides, men don't feel things as deeply as women do, despite their protests to the contrary. If they did, they couldn't go about their business as usual, they would collapse at home behind closed doors. Like me.

She was a happy, loving child, well-behaved and obedient. She would follow her older cousin around constantly; they played at being grown up with dolls for children as they practiced the skills they didn't realize they were learning -- they thought it was only fun. Then her cousin began to grow up, sooner than my darling child, and began to spend her time with a young man destined to lead a worship group in a little town some distance away.

When they married, I was concerned at the loneliness I saw on my child's disconsolate face. But her sunny disposition soon reappeared through the clouds of grief caused by loss of her playmate and she began going out to play again, alone. When she came in after hours of play, she would run to me and tiptoeing, would embrace me, hugging and kissing a greeting. Before much longer, she was as tall as I; her kisses fell on my brow instead of my chin. Her countenance grew in beauty; in her presence I felt a peaceful happiness, a satisfaction that she was growing up and would in such a short time, become a charming young woman. My heart would give a little lurch as I realized she would not forever reside within arm's reach but would some day soon look forward to a home of her own, a husband and children to care for  --like her dear cousin, who finally had a child coming, after long years of waiting.

I would rather my own child had died in my womb and I would have gladly missed those joyful years of proudly watching her grow up, rather than live to see her hopes dashed to the ground, our hearts broken, along with any future happiness she may have hoped for.   

All the sacrifices we made, all our love, our efforts to raise her -- as was our responsibility, understand. This was our duty under God's law, not a gift to her, not something she was required to repay (except the honor any child owed to her parents under God's same law). We were repaid, but not with honor or respect. In return, we received grief, regret, shame and she could not even explain to us how or why we were so betrayed. She said she was bound to secrecy (as though any promise to another could take precedence over her loyalty toward her parents). She said we would understand in time. But when?

We had no choice but to agree to her hasty marriage to this man -- this man, years older than she, who should have known better, who should have realized she was too young to understand the repercussions of such behavior. Oh, we did everything right, the wedding party included all the best people, all the refreshments; the decorations were as fine as money could buy. The guests came, ate and drank, tittered or giggled behind their hands when they thought we couldn't see or hear, watched my beloved daughter and her new husband and nudged one another, whispering. They made sure we knew they weren't taken in by our masquerade of apparent celebration of the nuptials. They slyly slipped in snide questions with their congratulations, such as why had we not waited until she was older; surely if it were true love, he would have waited for her. Our heads held high, we ignored the stabbing pain of their jibes and looked at the innocent (what irony) gaze of our daughter into the uneasy eyes of her bridegroom. He knew, if she did not, what their lives would be like.

I was relieved when a short time later he came to us, saying he must make a long business trip and his wife would travel with him. It might be, I thought, that he was looking for employment possibilities there and they could start over where no one would know of their unsavory beginning. To be fair, he had been a loving husband and treated her very tenderly; he provided for her every need and reassured her, bringing a smile back to her face, whenever she became fearful or felt poorly because of the pregnancy. She was so young!

She bravely waved and smiled her farewells as she rode away. Who knew when we'd see her again, if ever? So many things could happen with a first baby, such a young mother, and so far away from any women in her family who could see her through this time and help her after the birth. It wasn't wise to travel so late in her term; I was uneasy though I knew it was best if the baby were born far away from the gossips and tattle-tales of our small town. Oh God, help her. Help my child through this difficult time. Keep her safe, hold her future ---  

Yes, in spite of my grief, my anger, I can't withhold my prayers. God is. He won't disappear just because I keep silent and ignore him. In the scriptures it tells how King David cried out angrily over his hardships, his troubles, yet it says God called him a "man after his own heart". I never understood that, but I guess God doesn't hold grudges when we blame him for our pain. 

Light from my window. Have I truly lain here awake all night? My ears! What is that humming sound; it grows louder. And the light! Surely the sun never shone like this before. Surely it will explode and the world with it; that will end my sorrow.

Her face, my darling daughter's face in the midst of that unearthly glow. The baby! She's holding her child and I see her tender gaze as she nuzzles that downy little head. Oh, I remember that first sight of my own dear child. And behind her, other faces like none ever seen, radiant and joyful and singing, they're singing of great joy, peace come into this world with that child. Whispers of sorrows ahead but promises that she won't have to go through them alone, that God is with them, this family, this daughter who once belonged to me.

I'm on my knees, Lord, hands reaching toward the warmth of this brilliance filling my room. I will weep no more. Hail Mary, full of grace. Blessed art thou among women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

How to Recover Your Lost Good Humor

              Comes a time when there’s no sunshine in your day? Sometimes the arrival of a hangnail seems like the final blow that tips you over and you find yourself alone and hating your sole companion and you began to wonder why anyone cares about you (or if anyone does). Usually this crash comes along when I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself. Maybe, like me, you’ve recently been cruising on auto pilot and found yourself  thinking too much about Number One instead of those around you.

            Even those giants mentioned in the Bible fresh from some spectacular history-making event often followed that spiritual high with depression, fears and loss of confidence. Shouldn’t that little detail give us a clue as to the origin of our own self-pity? It’s not our fault these rushes of self-pity strike. We do have a powerful enemy who hates it when we have a good day, an effective day when we behave like one of God’s children. As they say, “You can’t stop a bird from flying over your head, but you don’t have to let it build a nest in your hair”.  In other words, don’t adopt the little fellow; shoo him away!

            One way to locate the express track to joy and exit the bumpy road you travel alone is hard to do. Let’s face it. A solo pity-party takes concentration; you have no energy to worry about anyone else’s surgery when you’ve just suffered through a blister on your heel, but just for a minute, let’s make the effort. In fact, make a list of people you care about, then people you know and those you see along the way and look for a hint of some problem they may be wrestling that might (admit it now!) be bigger than those you’re facing. Stop right there and breathe a prayer for that person and if that isn’t too big a shock to your system (your realization that your problems aren’t unbearable), try to think of something you could do to help.

            I guarantee you won’t feel like an insignificant loser when your mind is on someone else instead of your mirror. You may surprise yourself by beginning to count your blessings. And remember to stay on the narrow, bumpy path instead the crowded highway leading nowhere good. Above all, remember you’re not travelling alone. Thank you, Jesus