Doing OK

     I've been remembering lately the terrible days in April when I was sick with Covid. It was not a pleasant experience. Somehow, the version of the bug that contains simply sniffles and a loss of taste and smell eluded me, and I was left stricken on the couch for about a week. I didn't have strength to comb my hair. I had to rest walking from the living room to the restroom. It was too much work to answer messages on my phone. And I struggled to eat a whole Ritz cracker. Things were far from normal.
    Finally I surrendered and visited a local doctor. The first thing he did was walk in the room and ask, "How are you today?" 
    "I'm doing OK," I answered.
    I know it was a foolish answer. He could see for himself that I wasn't doing OK. But it can be so hard to accept that one needs help. 
    Perhaps I come by it rightly. When my dad was in ICU a number of years ago, the doctor asked him the same question. My dad's answer? "Oh, I'm doing pretty good." 
    This might be a laughing matter in retrospect. It could be you are shaking your head at human nature. But what happens when you move the scenario to your spiritual battles?

    I've been there before, struggling on the valley floor, besieged by many foes, my heart so heavy I can hardly move. How do I tell folks around me I'm doing? I tell them I'm OK. I might say that things aren't always easy. I might say that we all have our struggles. But I don't tell them how I feel that I am sinking into a bottomless pit.

    It seems to me that the Devil has been attacking the children of God more savagely of late. So many among us are struggling with thought patterns that drag them into despair. Some live their lives in a circle of anxiety and fear. Some are dealing with a lack of hope. For some, it is the little everyday temptations that they must resist again and again.

    I recognize that it is not appropriate to spill all our inner turmoil out to every person that we meet, yet I am also inspired when I recognize the power that comes from sharing a struggle with even just one person. Maybe you don't feel strong enough to tell them the whole struggle, but just be willing to ask for prayers! 

    When we try to handle our sicknesses on our own, we are soon locked in hopelessness where things become darker and darker. We find that we are unable to help ourselves, but when asked what is wrong we try to defend ourselves with "You wouldn't understand," or "No one else struggles with this," or "You can't help me."

    If the Devil can keep us feeling alone in that darkness, he has a strong foothold in our lives. In humbly sharing our burdens and asking for prayers, we begin to find strength and victory. The doubting and fears that flourish so well in darkness cannot continue to grow when brought to the light. 

    Prayer is one of the Christian's mightiest weapons. Just as Esther shared the burden of her heart with her people and requested that they fast with her, so ought we to beg for the prayers of those around us as we struggle with powers of evil. I cannot count the times that my burden has lifted when I have become willing to let someone else know of the battle I am fighting.

    As the earth about us continues to decay, I believe that in order to stand against evil we must first kneel together to pray. It is a step of humility and vulnerability. It isn't easy to talk about the things we hold inside. Maybe you don't think people care about you. You are wrong. They do care, but you will have to trust them enough to let them in. It's not easy. It's scary. May we all have the strength to turn toward the light.

    As one of my favorite songs says, "please pray for me, and I'll pray for you." Wishing you God's strength for whatever battle you are fighting!

      
    

From an Old Barge-Man

For a C.E. on Authorship. 

  It was March 27, 2008, and I was struggling alone at my desk. The teachers at Delta Mennonite School had asked me to write a poem for their year-end program. “Something about the Mississippi River,” they said. I had agreed with some trepidation, having written mostly for my own eyes before. Now time was running out, and inspiration had never come. At last, I began to pray, begging God to please give me something with which I could keep my promise.
    And just like that, He did. With sudden clarity, words started to flow from my pen to the page. In only minutes, the poem was finished. I read over the scribbled lines, curious to see how my prayer had been answered. 

From an Old Barge-Man
 
We had a team of horses
Back when I was young,
Workin' on the barges
From the risin' of the sun.

Down the Mississippi River
With our lines all stretched out taut,
Fightin' that ol' river
With everythin' we got.

No turnin' loose to let 'er win,
But with an iron will,
We sailed her muddy waters
That never quite lay still.

Back then there weren't no steamboats;
We won by muscles' brawn,
And we watched the sun set o'er her
An' were up before the dawn.

The hauls were kind of dang'rous
And far from home seemed long,
But at night the water lulled us
With her steady beatin' song.

Today the river's just the same,
All fight and current swift,
With sandy coves and rocky shores
And broken limbs adrift.

But the tuggin' and the bargin' 
Just ain't the same no more,
An' I'm glad I knew the river
In them hardy days of yore!
 
    I came to the end of the poem and gazed at my paper in dismay. This wasn’t what I had envisioned at all! The rhyme and rhythm were OK, and I didn’t need to edit more than a couple words, but I had been imagining something more majestic, more poetic than poor grammar and rustic barges. 
    That is where things started to go wrong. Just as I have many other times in my life, I decided to take things into my own hands. I sat at my desk and struggled alone, trying to compose something that I thought was worthwhile. After some intense work and frustrated sighs, my efforts yielded not one, but two more poems.
    Now what? Which poem should I choose to give to the teachers? I couldn’t decide, so I finally gave them all three and told them to choose. A few days later, I heard the news. They had chosen “From an Old Barge-Man.” My heart was smitten. I knew that poem had been a direct answer to prayer, an inspiration from God in my time of need. Why had I not been humble enough to be satisfied with His words instead of wasting time worrying over other options?
    Many times since that day I have been reminded of this experience. When God is leading me one way when I would prefer to take another, I remember that without Him I am not even able to write something that is useful. On days that I am challenged to follow His direction in humility, I recollect how useless my own efforts are without His blessing. When I feel his gentle nudge to speak to someone or reach out to others, I know that choosing my own path will lead me away from His grace. 
    Of course there are times of failure. There are days I rebel at the things I am asked to give up or areas where I am asked to give in, but it is my desire to surrender completely to God’s plan, wherever that plan may take me.

Australian Bushfires

     Bushfires devastated Australia between 2019 and 2020. Around 42 million acres of land were left scarred. The damage hovered in the vicinity of 1.44 billion dollars. Approximately 3 billion animals were affected by the massive outbreak, over 5,000 homes and businesses were destroyed, and at least 30 people killed. Where can the beauty be in this disaster? Is there anything left in the ruins to give one hope?
    Dotting the charred countryside are a number of plants— the lodgepole pine, a variety of eucalyptus, and members of the genus Banksia— that cannot germinate without the heat of a fire. There is somewhat of a variation in the way germination comes about. Some of the plants contain seeds which can only be freed from the seed coat, it is believed, through a burst of flame. Others are coated in a layer of resin that is melted by the heat of a fire. Thus it is that in spite of the devastation and the bleak, ashy landscape left in the wake of the disaster, new life stirs and hope is restored. All is not lost. A new beginning is born.
    Today we find ourselves in a midst of raging fires. Some of these fires are clearly evidenced the world over: countries in disarray, natural disasters, uncertainty of the future. Others are personal fires, challenging only one's own heart. I wonder, as possibly you do, too, why the fire? How do we make it through? Is there any hope left? Surely the struggles, the overwhelming darkness is too great for us to handle.
    1 Peter 4:12 tells us Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you. Not strange? You mean my doubts and fears, my temptations, the bleakness about me is not to be considered strange? I find for myself if I can accept that trials will happen, the storms and fires will rage, I also find a calmness. In acceptance there is a peace which allows me to turn my heart heavenward and trust. 
    As long as I consider the trials I face to be a strange and overwhelming happenstance, I feel panicky, fearful, and as if I ought to be finding a way to fix things. Releasing the fire into the hands of God, I am able to hear the gentle voice telling me fear not, nor be dismayed: for the Lord God, even my God, will be with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee (1 Chronicles 28:20).
    This is the inspiration that has been settling on my heart for the last several days. I want to learn to trust, to accept that these fires are not strange things, for they have affected the people of God throughout all of history. Instead of fear, I need to grow. I need to learn to turn my steps toward the Father and walk, as the song says, Nearer, My God, to Thee.
    Growing isn't easy. Fire can be painful. But the beauty of submission to God's plan shows up the most as we learn to allow the fires to bring about His perfect will. May we learn to face the fires in our lives with peace as we recognize an opportunity to grow.

One Song and Soccer

     When I was in seventh or eighth grade, the boys elected to play soccer for recess one day. For some reason, most of the girls were not enthused. They complained bitterly that the boys never passed them the ball. They decided the whole lot were really nothing more than rather violent ball hogs who left the girls hobbling in with bruised ankles and flattened toes.
    One of the girls got the bright idea to ask the teacher if we girls could sing instead of play. The rest of us supported the idea and the teacher was approached with the request. He finally agreed. Sort of.
    "One song," he said, "and then you need to come out and play soccer." Being girls, it wasn't too difficult to manipulate that one song. 
    First, of course, we took a long time trying to find the perfect song. Then one of our number had a light bulb moment when she realized that if we sang only one verse of a song it didn't technically count as a whole song. The idea caught on quickly. We whiled away our time singing one verse of this song and one verse of that until our teacher finally came inside to see what was taking us so long. 
    Life has moved on. No longer are we trying to manipulate the word of a teacher. Now, looking at my own life, I wonder how often I try to manipulate the Word of God. It's incredible how devious our human minds can be when determined to find a way around the things we are unwilling for. We hope God will be happy with what we give, even though it's not exactly the thing for which He asked. 
    We do our best to ignore the guilty niggling that warns us we are trying to get by on an effort that doesn't really match the request. We make excuses for our choices, deciding our reasons are sound and logical, forgetting that faith doesn't go by what seems reasonable, but by obedience.
    John 14:15 tells us clearly If ye love me, keep my commandments. Have you, like me, found yourself being half-hearted with some of His commandments? It's easy to let myself by with having a grudge toward someone as long as I don't verbalize it. It's not difficult to use my time on the device in my hand instead of on my family and friends and Sunday School lesson. It's simple to come up with reasons why it's OK for me to buy this pair of shoes or that pair of sunglasses.
    Oh, I know what you are thinking. That sounds a lot like living by works instead of faith, doesn't it? And there is a balance. Perhaps it can be found in the key thought "If ye love me." Do we love Him? Do we love what He has done for us? Do we recognize the enormity of the gift of Salvation?
    Perhaps instead of groaning and struggling to throw away a book, delete an app, forgive a former friend, or let go of an anxiety, we should realize that doing these things is a tangible way of devoting our lives to God. No, it likely isn't going to be easy, but it does become possible when we take our eyes off ourselves and the pain it causes the flesh and focus instead on the joy our humble willingness can give the King.
    Manipulating songs during recess time didn't bring true happiness to any of us, though we may not have realized it at the time. There were feelings of guilt involved, the knowledge that although we were technically obedient, we had not truly submitted to authority. We did not understand our teacher's reasons or the fact that he was sincerely striving for what he felt was best for us. 
    Seventh and eighth graders sometimes feel like they know best, and so do Christians who have been in the service of the King for a few years. We don't see the harm in manipulating a few things in our favor. We forget the promise in Isaiah 1:19: If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land.
    I want to learn to love Him more. I want to be humble enough to learn more of a willing obedience. And I want to learn to not only keep, but love His commandments. After all, Heaven is waiting.