Run

   As I was driving down the road, a cat crossed in front of me. This was no idle stroll, it was a flat out run, made difficult by the fact that the cat was carrying a prize, a field mouse, in it's mouth. The thing that caught my attention was that the cat did not look at the vehicle bearing down on it. Not once did it glance over its shoulder until it was safely across the road and had slowed its pace.
    We are running a race too. Like the cat carried the mouse in an uncompromising grip, so ought we to carry the prize of salvation. We must run, never looking back at the things we've left behind, never giving in to the fear of the darkness looming around us, but with our eyes set only on the far side of Jordan. We should run, unfalteringly, toward the light of the New Day that will dawn, running always toward the goal with the prize of salvation carried in our thankful hearts.
    Will we weary at times by the way? Certainly. Will there be days we question if the goal is worth it? Possibly. Will we regret the efforts we have expended? Never. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, "...run that ye may obtain." (1 Corinthians 9:24b)
    Run without looking back. Run toward the safety of a Heavenly reward. Run, because you have been given a gift, and you must protect it at any cost. 
    The forces of evil cannot overtake you if you run with your eyes on the goal. On the days you tire, you have a Captain that will carry you. You are not alone. There are brothers and sisters in the Church cheering you onward. 
    So run. With courage, with grace, with endurance. Run, that your children may see the smile on your lips as you face into the wind and wish to pursue the same joy you partake of. 

    Run with patience, with steadiness, with peace. Run, that those held captive by the enemy may be inspired to break loose of the chains that bind them. 

    Run every day, over any type of terrain, never looking back. Run, so that someday you shall stand before the Throne of Heaven with a soul immersed in thankfulness that you were given a prize, that you took the choice presented, and that you chose to run.   

Confusing Stories

    Lyssa finished reading and looked up at me. "What can you tell me about the story?" I asked, checking to see how much of what she had read she actually was able to understand.
    Lyssa fumbled for words. Then, giving up, she shrugged. "I don't know," she paused, her big eyes looking into mine. "It was kinda written in a confusing way."
    I wasn't surprised. Lyssa struggled with reading, and had I not been following along I wouldn't have understood the story either. I had to give her credit though. She had read with dogged determination, doing her best  with the letters and sounds she didn't know how to process correctly.
    There are days I am very much like Lyssa. I find myself sitting in a place that doesn't make much sense. It feels at those moments as if God has asked me to read a story that is confusing. Maybe the words seem too big for me to sound out or the subject matter is too broad for my understanding. But, like Lyssa, my job is to do the best I know and trust there is a reason for the story. 
    It is not my place to question God's choice. Neither do I need to complain about the parts I don't understand. My place is to live quietly in the position where He has placed me, trusting every letter, every tiny punctuation mark to His infinite wisdom. 
    David knew about feeling confused. and overwhelmed by circumstances. "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death." We hear his heart crying out. He didn't understand all the reasons he must pass through this miserable place. But he doesn't stop there. "I will fear no evil: for thou art with me." 
    The world around us is in confusion. As Christians we may sometimes lack understanding, but we need not wallow in the shadows. We have the knowledge God is with us. We don't need to control every circumstance, understand every phrase, respond with perfect answers to every question, because we know He is the Master of all.
    Trusting is not something that comes easily. It is a decision made deep in the heart of the believer. In spite of the troubled relationships we face and the seemingly disastrous decisions made by world leaders. Regardless of the death of a loved one, an unexpected hospital bill, or the crushing of a cherished dream. Through it all, trust is still a choice.
    No matter the shadows you are walking through, no matter the disappointments you have faced, you need not drown in confused loneliness. Take His hand. Fear no evil. He is with you. 

Building with Nebuchadnezzar

     King Nebuchadnezzar is recognized even in modern society for his successful military exploits. He used the wealth garnered from the places he invaded to turn the city of Babylon into a virtual paradise for himself and his subjects. Archeologists today tell us he not only built new walls around the city, but also strengthened their defenses. His is the recognition for the new moat, the Processional Way elegantly repaved with limestone, and fantastical temples to the gods Marduk and Nabu.
    Perhaps the most innovative piece of work was the Ishtar Gate. It was made of bricks, glazed cobalt blue, and imprinted with bulls and dragons. The gate also bears an inscription: “I [Nebuchadnezzar] placed wild bulls and ferocious dragons in the gateways and thus adorned them with luxurious splendor so that people might gaze on them in wonder.”
    The vanity didn’t end there. Experts estimate a possible fifteen million bricks were used in the building and renovation of Babylon. Many of these bear a stamped inscription, reminding the viewer that it was Nebuchadnezzar who was responsible for the beauty that stood there.
     We also have the account in Daniel 4: 29-30:  At the end of twelve months he walked in the palace of the kingdom of Babylon. The king spake, and said, Is not this great Babylon, that I have built for the house of the kingdom by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty?
     We know what happened next. The Voice prophesying the end of the kingdom and the king himself eventually put out to pasture as a wild beast.
     Where did the innovative, visionary conqueror go wrong? Here we have someone who pushed his ideas and agenda to new heights, who did things the citizens of Babylon had never dreamed possible. And yet, something was amiss.
     I think you can guess the answer as well as I can. It lies in those haughty inscriptions. It is seen in every one of the fifteen million bricks that bear his name. And it is heard in the words uttered in the palace walls. "I… adorned with luxurious splendor, my power, my majesty."
     There was nothing wrong with the projects themselves—beautification, easier access to important places, protection for the city’s inhabitants. The problem came in the self-centered attitude of the king.
     It’s so easy to live a self-centered life rather than a God-centered life. I’m not talking about big things. I’m talking about little things. I’m talking about a life completely saturated with God’s love. Are we ready and willing to ask ourselves why we do the things we do?
     When I go to town, am I greeting people with a smile because I want them to think well of me or is it because I want them in some measure to see the God who loves me? When I volunteer to help clean, bake food, or run an errand for someone else, are my actions me-based or God-based?
     It is not my intention to put anyone into bondage over the things they do. I believe God loves us enough to speak to us clearly when there is too much “me” involved. I know this because He has spoken to me before.
     I once wrote a letter to a church sister who was going through a struggle. She was someone I was not particularly close to, but we enjoyed one another’s company when together. To my shame, as I wrote that letter, I thought to myself of how grateful she would be to receive it. I imagined she would tell people around her, and I would get all kinds of recognition for this kind deed of encouragement. Somewhere in there the Spirit spoke to me. Thankfully I was granted vision to see my folly and the letter was never sent, but for a moment I was walking the palace halls with Nebuchadnezzar. I was admiring the thing I was building and hoped others would admire it too.
     Was there something wrong with writing a letter? No. Was my attitude self-centered rather than God-centered? Yes. That’s probably not the only time I have tried to stamp my name on the things of God. It’s part of our sinful nature to want recognition, but the power of God gives us the grace and humility to rise above these desires.
     As I go about building the rest of my life, I want to leave my name off and imprint God’s name on everything. I don’t want a single brick dedicated to myself. I want every cornerstone of my new buildings imprinted with the only Name that deserves to be glorified. I want His love to be carved upon the gates of my heart. And someday when I meet Him face to face, I pray self will be gone, with only a reflection of the glory of the Father remaining.

Ceiling Painting

     I've been painting a ceiling. It's a perfectly ordinary ceiling with one foot square tiles. It is not a large ceiling, yet it has proven challenging. In years past, the roof leaked and left the ceiling stained with large dark water spots. I don't think it's any exaggeration to say I have applied twenty coats of Kilz. 
    Of course I found out after the fact that I ought to have been using oil-based Kilz instead of water-based. At the moment, I just grabbed the already available water based version and dove in. 
    Painting over the water spots so many times is not among the most pleasant of my painting experiences, but it has given me food for thought. 
    In life I often look at the places I've messed up and the sins I've committed and imagine they must be covered with Kilz. The water-based version. And so I plead for forgiveness again and again and again. I peer at the spots with critical eyes, wondering if they are actually getting lighter or not. I use buckets worth of expensive supplies and difficult apologies. And in the end all my work doesn't actually make that much difference. The spots are still there. 
    It's so much different if I can turn to Jesus. His blood is a much more powerful remedy than all the Kilz I could ever use. One application is enough and the spots are gone. Completely vanished. Forever. 
    So why don't I call on Him for help right away? Why do I think my feeble roller-full of Kilz is still part of the fix? The problem usually lies in my understanding of His love for me and my ability to trust that love. I can't fathom a love that takes all the responsibility. A love that I don't have to earn at all. A love that is not meted out in stingy portions, but given lavishly. 
    Love for me.
    Me.
    Unworthy.
    Imperfect.
    Doubtful.
    But it is true. He waits longingly for His children to reach out to Him. The price has already been paid, the most expensive and high quality remedy there is, and it's ours for the asking. He's said so in His Word: "Ask and it shall be given you." (Matthew 7:7a)
    I want to learn to leave my doubting behind. I want to learn to relax into the perfect love of Jesus. To turn "Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood." (Romans 1:5b) I want to learn every day to trust Him more.
    And in return? In thankfulness to His love, His care, His washing of me? Well, what is there to do but give Him everything?

    

Can You Fly a Plane?

     The year was 1964. David Harris was waiting nervously for his turn for an interview with the American Airlines. Any applicant would have been nervous, but David was especially so. Over the past few weeks he had been rejected again and again. His job options were running out. Would this be one more disappointment?
    At last he entered the chief pilot's office. After the polite greetings were exchanged, David didn't mince words. "Before we proceed," he told the official before him, "I want you to know that I am black."
    The chief pilot looked steadily back at the man in front of him. With his light skin, it would have been easy for David to pass as white. There was no awkward pause, no stuttering reply. The answer was direct and simple. "This is American Airlines," the chief pilot said, "and we don't care if you're black, white, or chartreuse, we only want to know, can you fly a plane?"
    We come to God confessing our faults. We attempt to explain to Him that we are not perfect. We do our best to make it clear we don't have all the abilities that we see in others.
    But God doesn't care about our abilities. He doesn't care that we are not perfect. He doesn't care about our failings.
    What He does care about is our ability to receive His love. What matters to Him is our willingness to serve. The thing He longs to see is the humble, graceful acceptance of how He has created us. 
    It's so easy to think that our social standing or our ability to do good works will somehow make a difference in God's desire for us. We imagine that we need to be "good enough" before He will stoop low enough to sprinkle His cleansing blood on our souls. We believe He is looking for some semblance of perfection.
    He isn't.
    God doesn't care if we are the most wretched of sinners. He isn't bothered by a lack of cooking skills or an IQ that doesn't seem to measure up. He isn't even deterred if you admit to Him that you cannot fly the proverbial plane. He only wants to know, will you accept His gifts?
    You can lay your doubts and worries at His feet. You can express your inadequacies all you like. It makes Him no difference. God is more interested in your willingness than in your perfection. 
    "But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."  (Romans 5:8) There was no waiting around for us to get our act together. He didn't confirm with us first that we were going to be serious about serving Him. No, it was a free gift. He doesn't care if we are white, black, or chartreuse. He wants you. He wants me.
    David Harris became the first commercial airline pilot of African American heritage. It didn't happen on its own. He still had to fill in an application. He still had to show up. He still was courageous enough to mention something he was afraid would get him kicked out.
    It is the same with us. Show up at prayer time. Be completely honest with yourself and with God. Let Him know that you want to accept whatever He has for you. Just as the chief pilot's words of reassurance were surely music to David's ears, the love and forgiveness of God will be music to your heart.
    There, in the service of the Almighty, is a fulfillment more beautiful than you have imagined. And you are wanted. With all your faults, with your quirks, your disappointments, your weaknesses.
    You.
    Just as you are.

    

It's a Climb

    I'm willing to work on projects that spark my creativity for hours. I will rearrange and sketch and ponder and write lists in order to achieve something that ignites a fire in my mind. I'm not so great at hum-drum daily chores. I like things to be neat and clean, but I also like to find the easiest, quickest way to make it happen. 

    Unfortunately, this tendency shows up in my spiritual life as well.

    I was walking through a valley, crying out to God. Why were things so hard? Where was the joy? Isn't Christian life supposed to bring happiness? Why was everything so dark?

    But then I remembered. We weren't promised perfect joy and happiness. We weren't promised days of sunshine. We were never told that valleys wouldn't exist. Instead, we are told to expect tribulation. It's not a "sometimes" or a "maybe." John 16:33 says: "These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." 

    When I read this verse and others like it I tend to gloss over the tribulation. I focus on the peace and the good cheer. I don't want to face tribulation. Or if I must, I want to believe it won't be so bad. Maybe just a few battles that get my adrenaline pumping, where I flourish a sword and face down my enemies, then go back to living my peaceful life of good cheer.

    That's not reality. In fact, it's not often the big battles that are the hardest to fight. No, it's the everyday climb of self denial and hum-drum faithfulness. The little decisions that earn no recognition. The choice to have morning devotions. The effort to change negative thought patterns. The constant resolve to do what is right, not what is easy. "He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much" (Luke 16:10a)

    We are encouraged to run with patience, to press toward the mark, to be not weary. My flesh isn't interested in the discomforts, the straightforward plodding, the endless hiking. My earthly mind rebels at the thought of denying myself the little pleasures offered in the world around me, whispered in my ear by the tempter.

    I want to take my eyes off the journey and look at the destination. Instead of focusing on how difficult the road, I want to remember that every weary step, each labored breath is taking me closer to my Jesus, closer to the Glory He has prepared. I want to find joy in replacing my fleshly desires with submission to His will. I want to live my life eager for the fulfillment of promises to come, happy to suffer whatever discomforts He asks of me here on earth.

    And one day you and I shall stand before the beautiful gates of our eternal home and realize, fully realize, that Heaven is truly worth it all.

    

It's a Climb

I was walking with my Savior,

Pleading for His blessed favor,

For the mountains all were looming threateningly.

I begged that He not tarry,

But my hardships He would carry,

All the little things that seem so big to me.

But He touched my heart in kindness,

Slowly washed away my blindness,

As He strove to show me what was really true:

Said, "You're seeking blue skies with no trial,

Easy pathways, no denial,

But that's not the journey I have promised you!"

"For it's a climb!

There's a mountain summit waiting,

Throw aside your hesitating,

For I'll go with you each and every day.

I've walked with you through the valley,

Now lift up your head and rally,

For I'll surely stay beside you all the way!

You shall stand someday up higher,

And know 'twas worth the fire,

Worth the struggle, worth the bruises, worth your time!

And we'll sing and shout together

In that happy great Forever,

Take up courage, claim the mountain, start the climb!"

"Oh, I know you've traveled cliff sides,

And you've found yourself in high tides,

And you thought perhaps you'd finally rest awhile;

But you must call to recollection 

Every time that My direction

Slowly changed your tears into a happy smile.

For although it isn't pleasant

In this moment of the present

I've a home in Glory all prepared for you.

But you've got to carry crosses,

Not count earth's joys as losses,

As denying self you learn to choose to do."

"Yes, it's a climb!

There'll be boulders you must grapple,

And temptation as an apple

Surely will be waiting on a tree.

But you must not fear tomorrow,

Must not shrink in doubt or sorrow,

For each day you will climb beside of Me!

See, the mountaintop is calling,

Do not fear that rocks be falling,

Only take the steps I show, one at a time.

And someday up in Glory

You will sing and tell the story,

And be thankful for the mountain and the climb!

4-6-22

Malleable

    The Bible speaks in several places comparing our lives to gold (1 Peter 1:7, Zechariah 13:9, Job 23:10). Most often, this comparison refers to the unpleasant things in life we must go through. But the thing that has impressed me about gold is its malleability.

    Gold is the most malleable of all metals. One ounce can be beaten into a sheet measuring 300 square feet. It can be drawn into thin wires. It can be melted and poured into molds to be given a new shape, forming to the circumstances surrounding it. 

    I have been thinking about the things we surround ourselves with. As the hours slip by, we are surrounded with influences. Always influences. Influences for good or for bad. We find our thought patterns are malleable, forming to the beauty and inspiration of nature or to the restlessness of a world on social media or the fears and worries of the news. 
    These are real things, all of them. We likely cannot keep from being touched by them in some form, but continual exposure does change one's mindset. And we are malleable. 
    We may not recognize the first few times our thoughts begin to change. Scrolling Pinterest doesn't seem so bad. But then we find ourselves comparing our creative ventures to the perfection we see there. Or when we plan the redecorating of our house and we cannot be happy unless it looks like the rooms we know exist in other people's houses. 
    Or we see all the glossy magazine images of women with perfect skin and hair and teeth. And we feel badly about ourselves, about the way God made us, because we don't look like all those perfect photos. And instead of being happy with who we are, we start coming up with ways to look better or feel better, trying to learn to smile like the women in the pictures.
    Reading the news isn't bad. One ought not walk around ignorant of the world we live in. But suddenly we find that our phones are suggesting that we read stories about celebrities or politics or sports or conspiracies and we find ourselves checking more often for updates. We are anxious to hear the latest news on our chosen topics, more anxious than we are to read the latest Messenger or Daily Readings. And one day we find ourselves living in fear, forgetting to trust, underestimating the power of God.
    For some of us, it is books that are the culprit. We find ourselves captivated with stories of people who are not Christians. We can't expect the author to conform completely to our ideals of purity and nonresistance. It isn't our fault the writer chose to use foul language. We tell ourselves we know better, we won't let false doctrine trip us up. We try to skip or skim, but it is still there, and we find to our dismay that these wrong ideas and bad words come back, unbidden, at the most inopportune times. Because we are malleable.
    God created us to be malleable so that we could be molded to His will. In His perfect plan we, His precious children, are brought forth as gold through the fires of life, beautiful and shining, useful for His purpose. Yet Satan is not blind to our malleability. He likes to apply only a little heat, not too uncomfortable for us comfort-loving mortals, a slight pressure here, a wearing away there that we hardly notice, in order to conform us more to His way and less to God's. He's OK with taking his time. It's fine with him if our thoughts are turned only a bit at a time. He knows the end results will be in his favor.
    May we ever be careful of the influences we allow in our lives, taking care that we are molded only to the shape of our Creator. Because He created us and has given us the beautiful gift of choice. We can choose to dwell more in nature, to read more in the Bible, to engage in deep conversations. Because we are malleable, and these influences will help us more than the ones for which our flesh has a natural attraction. 

    Someday the carefulness and self-denial will pay off, and we will be able to say, as Job: "My foot hath held his steps, his way have I kept, and not declined. Neither have I gone back from the commandment of his lips; I have esteemed the words of his mouth more than my necessary food." (Job 23:11-12)

    Being malleable is not bad. The importance lies in what we allow ourselves to adapt to. Choose wisely.