Gifts

 A gift cannot be truly given until it has been accepted.

One morning in the midst of revivals I entered my classroom to find a tiny ceramic bird on my desk. It was perched on top of a blue post it note on which was scrawled simply in black sharpie, “Love you.” 

 

I had two choices. I could accept the gift, or I could consider it a nice gesture but doubt the underlying sentiment.

 

Perhaps the choice looks obvious to you, but it hasn’t always been so obvious to me. I am, perhaps, a skeptic, always doubting that people actually care about me, always supposing their kind actions are a form of pity or condescension. Any gift, grandiose purchases made by my schoolboard or tiny treasures such as a smile or a compliment, was met with doubt inside my heart.

 

When I was eighteen, one of my friends really let me have it. “You need to learn to just accept it and say thank-you when someone gives you a compliment,” she said. And so I tried to learn to say thank-you, but the acceptance part has taken some time. I’m not sure I’m there yet.

 

I love to give gifts, but my search for the perfect gift that is functional, beautiful, and has a sentimental backstory, usually ends in frustration and I end up gifting a highly unsatisfactory gift card or cash. Accepting gifts, however, has always been hard for me. The public spectacle of opening a package during a birthday party at school is enough to make me consider retirement. But I have begun to wonder if it is the gift itself that makes me uneasy, or the emotion one could perceive behind it.

 

If a gift is given out of duty, I’m not interested. If it is given out of actual love? Well, that makes me fearful. There’s so much at stake here. What if I mess up our friendship somehow and they regret giving it to me? If I accept the gift, that means I have to accept the giver loves me, and I know I’m not that lovable.

 

The reality of this doubtful part of me plays out in my relationship with Christ as well. I doubt that the experiences He gives me are true. I question His forgiveness, expecting it to be only a loan rather than an abundant life-long supply. I can ask Him for little things, yet I fear to request a large gift, because why would He love me that much?

 

But His gifts are real, and many times I need not even ask. The song going through my head when I wake up, the verse He gives during my devotions, the way the sunlight and shadows play together through the branches of a tree—all these are free and full gifts, His divine pleasure to give. Once again, the question is whether I will accept them, and so doing accept His love, or will I turn away, convinced I am not worthy to be loved?

 

Somehow, I think gifts are mine to earn. I have to prove I am worthy to receive.  I could understand God forgetting a sin. I can understand how He might choose to not see it, like some weary parents and teachers do with a troublesome child. But the fact that He sees my every sin, my each wrongdoing, looks it full in the face and says, “I love you,” with no hesitation, no condescension, no sigh of longsuffering, is beyond my capability to grasp.

 

I can receive a gift and refuse to use it. Many of us have been given gifts that perish in dark corners because they just aren't really "me". And there's things like the beautiful vintage style notebook a student’s mother gave me. She said, “It’s to use, not just sit around.” She must have known me. It’s still sitting around because I haven’t come up with the perfect words to write in it, even though I've tried.

 

To truly receive, we must believe, accept, and use. The Great Gift Giver has many gifts waiting for each of His dear children, but He cannot fully bless us with them until we are willing to let Him love us completely. He cannot pour our cups to overflowing until we are ready to accept. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." (John 3:16)

 

Will we take the gift of His Son’s blood? Will we use it? Or will we refuse it? 

A gift cannot be truly given until it has been accepted.

"Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift." (2 Corinthians 9:15)

Fun

I cannot count the times I’ve attempted to make my life more fun. Yes, really. I always think, “I’ll be enthused about this if I can make it fun!” and so I’ll come up with reward programs for myself. Or I’ll buy something I think will really inspire me. Want to start keeping a journal? Why, order a pretty one, buy some new pens, splurge on some adorable stickers. Bored with drill and review at school? Invent a new game to keep it interesting for myself. A sink full of dishes? Find something entertaining to listen to, or even replay old messages. Yes, I really do get that desperate.

 I won’t condemn all those things. I think there is a time and place for them. But I also find myself struggling in the current atmosphere of the world around us, where we are led to feel entitled to fun. We feel like we need easy. We deserve to avoid hardship and struggle at all cost. Self-denial is highly esteemed only as long as it is used to benefit oneself in some obvious way. People go to great lengths to control their eating, exercising, and spending. Controlling these things is certainly not a bad idea, but when the motive is checked more thoroughly, we often find underneath a desire for more popularity, views, or “likes.”

 As a Christian, I find myself appalled to realize how much I’ve bought into this mindset. I somehow think that living a Redeemed life should be easy, too. I don’t want to deal with the daily battles. I feel unduly put upon when people question the choices I make. It’s so much easier to just do things how I’m used to doing them and not reconsider my decisions in the light of a reproof. And when it comes to battles of the mind? Let’s not even go there. I’d rather not recognize that I have a choice to fight the lies of worthlessness that cloud my mind, or feelings of anger, distrust, and fear that so readily leave me anxious and depressed. Because making that choice is hard, and although negative emotions are not fun, they're certainly easier to allow than to fight against.

 But the Bible clearly states that Christian life is not easy. It’s a life of joy, there may be laughter, but it will not all be fun. Right in the twenty-third Psalm, we get our first glimpse of disappointment: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”  And how about James 1:12? “Blessed,” the apostle writes, “is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life.” John 16:33 proclaims boldly, “In the world ye shall have tribulation.” Although the verse continues to lift out hope and cheer, the first part cannot be ignored. This is not a suggestion. It’s not a maybe. It’s not even suggesting that some may have tribulation, but if you get lucky you might miss out on un-fun events. No, instead, it is a clear and concise statement: “Ye shall have tribulation.”

One of the areas that has impressed me many times is the area of communication. Communication can be a lot of fun—catching up with friends and sharing memories, passing on good news, or sharing a joke. But many times we are called on to communicate things that are not fun. I’ve been in more of these situations in my life than I care to admit. Sometimes I’ve been the one hearing something I wish was not being communicated to me. Other times, I’m the one struggling to find the courage to communicate about questions or concerns I carry.

I’m astonished at how the Bible addresses this issue clearly. Ephesians 4:29 says “But let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying…” That which is for our edifying is sometimes hard to hear. It is also difficult to deliver. I am sure many teachers have trembled before a Parent-Teacher meeting, worried about something they must tell the parents. I know there are times as a youth where you feel to communicate about a conviction you have which you know will be unpopular with your friends. Anyone in a position of authority, whether you are a Sunday School teacher, a Youth Leader, or a School Board Member’s wife, will probably come upon an occasion where communication seems necessary but unpleasant.

Although we must enter into communication with humility and prayer, we must not leave it undone. One of my favorite verses on the topic is Hebrews 13:16: “But to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” Communication is listed as a sacrifice. I don’t like the sound of the word “sacrifice.” It scares me. What will be required? How much unpleasantness will it involve?

I’ve been inspired over the last number of months that I need to accept that life is not all fun. Instead of trying to avoid hardship, I need to accept it. Rather than look for ways to add excitement and fun to my life, I need to cherish the moments of joy I am gifted and realize that they are just that—a gift. Instead of groaning about mundane daily chores, wallowing in feelings of despondency, or buying into the myth that I deserve fun, I need to grow up, buckle down, and start thanking my Father for the things He has so graciously given me. Things I often didn’t know I needed, and certainly did not deserve.

I’m curious how God could use each of us if we could see our entitled natures for what they are and abandon our ideas of fun and want and, yes, even need, to flee into the safety of His will. Would I be asked to give up a few years of my life in one of the mission fields crying for workers? Would I need to sacrifice my precious vacation plans in order to help fund a project to help someone less fortunate than myself? Would I learn to build relationships based, not on what I can receive, but on what I can give?

I don’t know the answers. In fact, I hope this outpouring of thoughts that have been accumulating for quite a time now makes some sort of sense to your heart. I know I’ve started to think differently about my own life. Perhaps these thoughts have been only for me and my need. It makes me feel a bit vulnerable to record them. Yet here they are, a gift of communication for you, too. Maybe something will speak to you—a tiny phrase somewhere—or maybe it won’t. Either way, I want you to know that I welcome your communication, even if it’s unpleasant. I also want to learn to welcome the things in life that are not fun—because I know that although I may suffer tribulation in this world, I serve a Savior who has overcome the world, and someday I shall be with Him in a Home where all will be peace and joy, not just for a moment, but forever.

Greenhouse

There was once a man who owned a greenhouse. One day he noticed his neighbor looking over the fence into his backyard and straight at the greenhouse. The man decided he didn’t feel comfortable with this neighbor looking at his greenhouse. Not that he had anything to hide, of course, but it just made him feel a little vulnerable.

He walked all around the greenhouse. The walls were transparent, and he could see many of the plants he kept inside. A few were small enough they were hard to make out, but it was still obvious something was there. And whenever he worked in the greenhouse, he’d be obvious, too.

So he bought a tarp. A large black tarp. He draped it carefully over the greenhouse. It hung to the ground on three sides of the small building. Now, the man thought, he felt much more secure. No more could prying eyes look into his property.

It didn’t take long for things to begin to change inside the greenhouse. Leaves began to droop and turn brown. The man began to feel frustrated. He watered his plants faithfully. He fertilized them. He even tried playing music for them. The internet had guaranteed it would work.

But still the plants withered away. Then one day, he noticed something else. To his dismay, the flowers on the westernmost side of the greenhouse that had been flourishing earlier suddenly began to die. He remembered the package had said they needed full morning sun. With the tarp covering the greenhouse, they were now only exposed to sun in the afternoon. His whole hobby was turning into a disaster.

I suppose you think the man in the story made some bad choices. Perhaps you scoffed at his ignorance the first time he pulled out the tarp. And I’m quite sure you suffered frustration when he played music for his plants instead of taking off the shade that was blocking the badly needed sunlight.

But don’t discredit him too quickly. I think there are a good number of us who do the very same thing with ourselves.

We cover our feelings. We hide from people who get too close to discovering what and who we really are. And then we can’t figure out why we aren’t growing. Why does it seem that we’ve begun to stagnate? We’re doing everything we can, but it’s not working like it used to.

Transparency. It’s not an easy thing. It can be scary to let others in. We quake at what they will see and what they might think. It seems easier to keep out of sight.

Some of our faults are real. Some are only imagined. But either way, we tremble to think of someone else being able to see them. Yet we are clearly instructed in James 5:16 to “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.”

I believe that it is this transparency that will help sustain the Church of God as time draws ever nearer to a close. Transparency is where we can continue to grow in grace. Transparency is where we are able to allow the light of our Father to glow through us and shine upon those around us. Transparency is where healing will begin for wounds caused by sin and for deep hurt not of our own making.

Yes, it might be terrifying to tear off the tarp and let others see what is underneath. But there is also a freedom, a lightness, that comes with learning to reveal what is underneath. Transparency is where the Glow of God shines through. It’s also where the Grow in God happens.

If you are living a tarp-free life, stay courageous. It takes a special kind of strength to live in such a state of vulnerability. If you’ve been afraid of taking the tarp off, know that you will never regret it. Know, too, that things will not be as terrible as you imagine, should you begin to lift a corner of your tarp. Because the Son will shine upon you, and you will be richly blessed.

Wishing each one a bright and beautiful week!

The Sound of the Teacher's Voice

 Paula was the kind of little girl everyone loved. She would come up to a complete stranger with a hug. She always thought of gifts to give others. She noticed and cared how others were feeling. And she was very good at giving compliments.

 However, Paula did have one fault. Of course, her parents had worked with her at home in this area, but as often happens, attending school made the problem come to the forefront. The problem, in Paula’s case, was not listening.

 Not disobedience, but just never seeming to hear in the first place. In exasperation, the teacher realized she could yell Paula’s name across the playground and every other child would turn to look, but not Paula. Was she hard of hearing? What could be the matter?

 It did seem a little complicated. Paula was a very sensitive child and often took flight into her own little world of magical dreams. Perhaps she was so involved in make-believe she really didn’t hear? But she needed to learn.

 Finally, the teacher took Paula aside and had a very serious talk with her. “You must acknowledge when I call your name,” the teacher said. “Maybe you sometimes really don’t hear, but I can’t tell the difference between when you are ignoring me and when you actually don’t know that I called, so I’m going to have to give you consequences every time you don’t at least stop and look at me when I call for you. You need to learn to listen for the sound of my voice.”

 There is little doubt we are living in the final days. The world swirls about us, a sea of confusion with its offerings. What is right and what is wrong? I wish, as some of you probably do, as well, that we could be provided with a book of clear-cut instructions. Do this and don’t do that, and I’ll be fine. But God’s plan for us is so much bigger than a book of rules.

 His plan is for each of us to learn to listen for the sound of His voice. There are many things we can be doing right, yet still have a problem with hearing. It is so easy to go through life making our choices based on what others are doing or waiting to see how we feel. That last bit is tricky. God can sometimes speak through how we feel, but this can also be the result of an over or under-active conscience. This only adds to the importance of knowing, truly knowing, the voice of the Ultimate Teacher.

 The Church has made decisions on many important topics. They are available for us to peruse. But when we go about our daily life, are we making use of those teachings? Do we regard them as the Voice of the Father? Are we listening intently to every nuance of how He speaks? It is easy, and sometimes seems simpler to forget that He communicates with us through the doctrines of the Church, the guidelines, our ministers, and our brothers and sisters.

 Even with all these valuable resources, there will still be days when we wonder what the path forward holds. We will need to search out His whisper. We will need to throw ourselves on His mercy and sit silently, waiting for His voice. “So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” (Romans 10:17)

 But we do not need to fear that we will not recognize His voice. If we are in true and humble submission to Him, He has clearly told us that “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27)

 It didn’t take Paula long to learn to listen for her teacher’s voice after this conversation. We may be surprised how quickly we, too, can learn if we apply ourselves in listening. The clamor of entertainment, our selfish desires, and the many concerns of the world around us attempt to shut out His quiet whisper. But there is no doubt that it is there.

 And so today I long to clean out my ears and renew my vows once again to listen, truly listen. I long to know, to the depth of my being, the sound of my Teacher’s voice. For today. For tomorrow. Until Forever.

Other verses I found on the topic:
Jeremiah 33:3
John 8:47
Isaiah 30:21
John 16:13
Luke 11:28

 

Childish Prayer

 It was the night of the program, and the Bible School class was buzzing with excitement. There weren’t so very many children, but the quantity of energy was making up for the small number of attendees. The teacher struggled to know exactly what to expect of students on their first or second night of attendance who weren’t used to the structure she routinely required.

 They were talking about Daniel in the Lions’ Den and how he prayed three times a day. “Do you pray three times a day?” the teacher asked the class. The class shook their heads no.

 And that’s when Sam, the most exhaustingly energetic one of them all, had a suggestion. “Maybe we should pray right now!” he called out.

 The rest of the class agreed. “Would you like to pray?” the teacher asked Sam.

 “Sure!” he exclaimed and bowed his head. The rest of the class followed his example.

 Sam’s prayer was simple and not too long. He prayed for his mom and dad and that the children could do a good job singing for their parents that evening.

 When he finished, another child wanted to pray, too. Soon the whole class had had a turn. The prayers were straight from the heart. They spoke of siblings and friends and grandparents. One child mentioned family members in prison.

 “And now you need to pray!” they told the teacher.

 So she, too, prayed a prayer, real and heartfelt, for her family and friends and the children she had come to love in only five short days.

 As the prayers ended, a peace settled over the class. The enthusiasm was still there, but the levels of excitement that had made it hard to function had calmed down. A Holy Presence was truly with them.

 Sometimes we become too grown up. We think things are too little or too silly to pray about. We believe, somehow, God doesn’t want to be bothered.

 We are so wrong! God loves to know that we trust enough to confide in Him even the smallest of things. When we withhold from asking, we often do so out of a fear God will not care enough to answer in the way we think we need the answer to come. Our doubts are washed away in our submission to His plan and our trust in His love.

 Our Heavenly Father delights in seeing a child who can trust Him completely. He rejoices when we come to him in vulnerability and humility to speak to Him of everything—our wishes, our failures, our deepest needs.

 Zechariah 4:10 asks the question, “For who hath despised the day of small things?” Who indeed despises small things except the human mind that longs to rely on logic and control and pride? Fear tells us we can’t trust, self-sufficiency tells us to take care of our own problems, and our limited understanding of true compassionate love declares our requests to be a bother.

 But is anything small to God? Is any gift of trust too little for Him to notice? Does He not grasp the simple beauty of a heart truly accepting His plan? Oh yes, He sees and understands far more clearly than we do!

 So today I want to share the joy of simple prayers with you. Prayers prayed by a child. Prayers prayed as a child would pray them. Prayers for childish things. Our Father hears each one.

 

Judgment

 One time, many years ago, a brother got up in front of church and said something—I, of course, do not remember the exact words—to the effect that introverts were more selfish than extroverts.

My spirit rose within me. I am an introvert. I know lots of extroverts who are selfish. I’m not going to say that I’m unselfish, but to say that, in one sweeping statement of generalization that introverts are more selfish? That was not OK. He clearly didn’t understand everything about introversion and extroversion that I did. How dare he?

I have, in the past, prided myself for being non-judgmental. I looked on in scorn as my fellow youth refused to hang out with someone just because they weren’t “cool” enough. “Seriously,” I thought, “get a grip and grow up. You’re not so much better than everyone else.”

 

I’ve also read the account of the publican and the Pharisee in Luke 18. I’ve prided myself on being in accordance with the publican. But even while I pray, “God, be merciful to me a sinner!” A little voice has whispered in my heart, “at least you’re not like the Pharisee!”

 

And so I stand today, imperfect, before you. The thoughts I leave here have impressed me in the midst of my own need. But because I believe that all of us struggle with casting judgement at one time or another, I shall leave them with you, as well.

 

I have been intrigued by judgement among humans for a number of years, and I’ve noticed some patterns that hold true in my own life.

 

The first of these points is very simplistic. We often are tempted to accuse others of being judgmental, but we cannot make this accusation without being judgmental ourselves. You can see it in each of the examples I mentioned at the beginning. I judged the brother for his judgment on introverts. I judged my fellow youth for their judgmental attitude toward others. I judged the Pharisee for judging the publican. Honestly, who is the most judgmental person in those illustrations? If I’m honest, I have to admit that it’s probably me. 

 

What makes us accuse others of being judgmental? There seems to be a few root reasons. One is that we often accuse others of being judgmental when we are feeling guilt or shame about something. Another is, quite simply, pride. Sometimes this pride exhibits itself in feeling like we are better than others because we are more talented or more socially adept. Other times it shows up in self-righteousness, appearing humble on the outside, but lifting ourselves up on the inside.

 

Although it likely falls under the canopy of pride as well, I’m going to give special mention to the judgment that comes from the surprising place of our own insecurities. When we aren’t sure who we are in Christ, or when we have not accepted the person we have been created to be, insecurity often manifests itself as judgment.

 

When we allow ourselves the liberty of judging others, whether it be a first-person judgment, or in response to feeling judged, we open ourselves to bitterness. Bitterness is a terrible wedge between two people. Many times, it stirs up unrest, resentment, fear, and false ideas about what the other person meant by what was said or done.

 

Feeling this resentment and bitterness toward someone else ends up stealing my own peace. I must be so careful what I say to them that it becomes easier not to talk around them at all. I feel as though they are critical towards me, so I avoid them at social functions and hide when I see them in Walmart. Bitterness takes very little time to turn into bondage.

 

Whether I really have been judged by someone else, or just think I have, it hurts. It really does. It does no good to pretend I’m tough and it doesn’t matter. But to let my pain turn into bitterness is a very dangerous thing. As I nurse my wounds, I begin to separate myself from those around me. I begin to rely on my own judgment, no longer willing to trust others. Instead, I start secluding myself, turning away, relying only on my own direction.

 

Hebrews 12:15 talks about bitterness. “Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled.” I had never thought of bitterness this way. Not only does it defile me, my bitterness toward others may cause them to stumble, and thus defile them as well.

 

Why would I even write about judgment and bitterness? Christians shouldn’t have those problems.

 

I wish.

 

Satan knows all too well what temptations we are prone to, and somehow he manages to use them to his advantage more often than we care to admit. If we’re going to be real, we’re going to have to admit that we sometimes struggle with these feelings. (Unless I really am the only one!) While I may not be able to prevent these feelings, I can choose what to do with them. Allowing them to continue in my heart unchecked is a very dangerous place. Pulling them up by the root is a brave, though painful solution.

 

Jesus’ words to the Jewish leaders, “…He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her,” (John 8:7) remains true for us today. While the Church as a whole has been bestowed the power of judgment with approval from our Father, we must be very careful in the personal judgments we are tempted to cast. Many times we will find that neither side of an issue is completely in the right.

 

When judgment and bitterness overtake a group of people, it becomes very difficult to work together. Love becomes a vague and shadowy form. Decisions become difficult to make as people fear being honest and being judged for their opinions. Instead of upbuilding conversations of growth, time together is spent in stilted speech or light commentary. Times of fellowship become less common, leading to less understanding of one another’s hearts and a weaker circle of believers.

 

Is judgment a widespread problem? I’m not here to answer that. I struggle with it, more than I like to admit.

 

Is there a simple answer? Sure. Be humble. But knowing the answer and living the answer are two different things.

 

Is there hope? There is always hope. Romans 8:37 states it beautifully: “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.” We will fail and stumble and fall, for we are human. But through Christ, through Him that loved us enough to take the judgment we deserved on Himself, we will find a way. Looking to Him and His love will help us learn to let go of the bitterness and replace judgment with grace and compassion.

 

So this is my prayer, for myself and for you, too, if you find yourself struggling. That we could go forward together, as conquerors, eyes fixed ever on the Giver of Love, for only He is able to help us overcome our flesh. And someday? Someday if we strive faithfully onward, we will sing together before His throne, free from bitterness and fear and failing, where judgment will never divide us again.

 

May God bless each one of you with a beautiful week!

Benched

When Miss Virginia was younger, quite a number of years ago, she coached the girls’ basketball team at a local private school. Her rules were simple: Bring honor to the school, respect your teammates, your opponents, and your coach.

 Usually there wasn’t a lot of trouble. But the day came when one of the players, in a bad temper over a failed shot, said a four-letter word that fell harshly on Miss Virginia’s ears. The language was so foul, she could scarcely believe it was one of her girls who had said it.

 The rest of the team looked at her in shock. They knew this language didn’t fall under Miss Virginia’s code of conduct. What would she do?

 The coach’s own daughters, too young to be on the team, ran up to their mother. “Did you hear that, Mom? What are you going to do?” they asked, horrified excitement on their faces.

 “It will be taken care of,” Miss Virginia assured them. “You’ll just have to wait and see what happens.” 

Then she drew the young player aside. “You know the rules,” she said kindly. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay on the bench at the next game.” 

The next game? The team looked on in dismay. The young lady who had been benched was one of the starters, a rising star in her own right. And the next game was a tournament game, an opportunity for triumph and a trophy. What had their coach done?

Miss Virginia went home that evening, saddened by the events of the day. Had she made the right decision? It wasn’t long until the phone rang. On the other end was the benched player’s mother.

 “I’m a Christian,” she began.

 “Oh no,” Miss Virginia thought. “These calls are always worse when they have to start out by telling me they’re a Christian.”

 “I’m a Christian,” the woman said, her fury palpable over the phone line, “but I don’t know what you think you’re doing, benching my daughter for one word slipping out. This is the tournament game we’re talking about. My daughter is the star of the team! You’re going to sacrifice the tournament for one little word? You’re going to lose the whole thing if you won’t let her play!”

 The tirade went on and on. At last the woman paused. “I’m sorry,” Miss Virginia answered, “I’d love to let her play, but it’s more important to me that she learns to respect herself than that we win the tournament. I don’t coach to win the game, I coach to help these girls become the best version of themselves that they can be. I want them to grow, to become citizens worth respect, citizens we can trust to lead our governments. I can’t go back on my word, not if I want to lead by example, not if I want to help not only your daughter, but all the players, become the best version of themselves.”

 It may be that anger is also the mother of invention. The woman on the other end of the line surely invented a new lexicon of abuse, but she may as well have been speaking to a deaf woman. Miss Virginia was not to be moved. She had a long-range vision for the girls on her team. She loved them, and she wasn’t only looking at tomorrow or the next tournament. She was looking even farther into the future.

 Where do you find yourself today? Are you living your life with a long-range view, or with short term vision? All too often I find myself looking only at today, only at tomorrow. I prefer to dismiss where my actions will lead in the next year, the next five, the next ten.

 These actions can be small—where I spend my money, what snacks I choose to consume, how much time I waste reading the news, the words that I allow to fall, unheeded, from my tongue. The short-sightedness can lead me to think it’s OK if I skip my devotions, read that questionable book, repeat the gossip I’ve heard, or even harbor thoughts of judgement against another.

 This may sound like I’m advocating for perfection, but I assure you that is not the case. I’m advocating for you to join me in turning to our Heavenly Father and asking Him about the long-range plan. Is there something He wants me to change? Something He would have for me to give up? An area in which He would have me learn self-denial?

We’re used to easy living, coasting through our Christian lives, coming up with our own reasoning to sort out the things that we allow ourselves. Some of us fall into the bondage of trying to perfectly follow every aspect of Christian living we can fathom. In some cases, we fail to live in the freedom of the Spirit because we are trying so hard to do everything right.

 In most cases, I don’t believe that God works in big splashy ways. Neither does He want us to change everything at once. Most of all, our Father is looking for a willing heart that He can lead toward small actions which may grow into what the world around us would consider radical self-denial. We can’t get away from self-denial. It’s in everything we do—our choice to get out of bed in the morning, our decision to forego a second serving, the not-always-simple act of consistency in our child training, whether a parent at home or a teacher in a classroom.

 This self-denial isn’t radical to a Christian. Luke speaks of it in chapter 9, verse 23: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.”

Neither is it a foreign thought to live with our eyes on the long-range view. In fact, everything about Christian life speaks of the long-range. “But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.” (Matthew 24:13). Later, the apostle continues: “Therefore be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.” (Matthew 24:44)

I’m not here to tell you what area God would have you to consider in your life. Far from it. I’ve been inspired with this topic mostly because I’ve been wondering what God would have for me in the way of self-denial. There are so many areas where I could see places to improve. So many things that aren’t quite up to par. Am I willing to follow where He’s leading me? If He wants me to practice denying myself of anxieties that arise, am I willing to do my best to follow? How about toning down a part of my personality that has always been part of my identity? What of the ways that I usually relax? Am I open-hearted enough to allow Him to replace those things with a different plan? 

It's easy to shrug and say, “Oh, that’s just how I am. I know others who do the same thing.” But what of Miss Virginia’s rules? Are we respecting our Brothers and Sisters? Are we respecting ourselves? Are we respecting our Coach? Is our negligence placing honor where it is due, or soiling the Church we love?

I realize I’ve probably asked more questions than I have given answers, but maybe that’s OK. I’m not here with answers. Maybe what I’ve really spent all this space rambling about is willingness to follow direction, even though we don’t understand everything. I may not know the reason God is asking me to give something up or give in, but I do know I can trust Him enough that He has a reason—a good one—even though I can’t see into the future.

 God sees the long-range better than anyone. In His own words, He says “I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

His goal for us is so much bigger than winning a basketball game. It’s so much more than short-term pleasure. His goal is to draw us nearer to Himself, to mold us into the kind of person He created us to be. And someday there will be a reward waiting for us that is worth more than any earthly trophy. Am I ready to go wherever He leads? To deny whatever He asks to be denied? Are you?

 Oh, and Miss Virginia’s tournament game? Well, they won—even though a starting player was on the bench. This, too, speaks to me. Even though it may not look like winning in the eyes of the world, I can win in eternity by giving up those things that look impossible to do without.

 Are you ready to join me? We’ll make mistakes, but we’ll work together, pick ourselves up and continue onward, upward. Because we have will have a long-range view and a Father we know we can trust. And someday, as the song says, “It will be worth it all.”