Faithfulness from a Mighty God

Well, now that February is almost over I'm almost feeling normal.  (I can just hear those who know me best saying, "Normal? You've never been normal in your life!" Alas.)  I don't recall ever missing such a big block of life at one time.  Two weeks in bed and another week wondering why I wasn't is no way to start the new year.  I have learned that not even upon my worst enemy would I ever wish a sinus infection.  Pain, and then more pain, and maybe I'm just a wuss.  Again, alas.

So, this week I've tried to take it easy, which isn't hard when you have no strength to do anything for more than 30 minutes at a time.  Our pastor reminded us on Facebook that RADICALIS 2011 was happening (an annual conference hosted by Saddleback Church) so I tuned in.  It was just what the doctor ordered - an encouragement to the soul and the spirit and a reminder from God that it's not about me.  Dang it!

While listening in on-line I tackled a chore I"ve been putting off for years.  That would be going through and organizing all of our photos.  It's easier to scrapbook if you have them in order, right?  So of course, you guessed it, I've been walking down memory lane again.  But that's the purpose of taking all those pictures isn't it?

There are several things that have caught my attention going through all of those photos.  One is that we were BUSY.  Oh my gosh, BUSY.  Children at home make you BUSY.  Have mercy.  I must pray harder for my friends who are in that phase of their life right now. 

Another thing that struck me is that we had two years (and maybe more) that were traumatic - life changing - painful - oh dear God are we going to survive this - kind of years.  One of those was in 1992.  We lost three family members that year.  The first was in February (hmmm).  Our brother-in-law lost his courageous battle with cancer.  Our kids and their kids were not only close in age, but they were close as in friends.  I remember Jason staying with them over the weekends before and then being so sad that he almost always had to come home from school on Mondays.  I remember one of the reasons he made it that year was that his second grade teacher's husband was fighting a similar battle, and I know for a fact that they shed tears together on more than one occasion.  It was hard.  It hurt.  It left us wounded.

In May, Mike's Aunt Melva lost her battle with brain cancer.  We were still wounded, and the pain went a little deeper.  Her funeral was almost harder than Bill's because with his we had had time to grieve as a family before the service.  We did not have that luxury with her service.  It was hard.  It hurt.  It wounded.

Then in December, right before finals Granny Ray died.  She was Mike's grandmother.  And so yet again, there were tears to shed, and hurts to heal.  And we couldn't just shed tears for her at that point.  There was another round of tears for Bill and for Melva.  Grief sometimes likes to come and stay.

There were other hard things that year.  For the first time since having children I had to return to work full-time.  I spent March, April, and May in El Paso during the week for job training.  In December, the week that Granny Ray died I had the flu.  Thought I was going to die then too, but thankfully the duration was only four days.  I was feeling better just in time to get in the car and head to Arkansas.  Nathan and Lori had transitioned to junior high that year, which is traumatic in and of itself.

Now there were times of comic relief as well.  This family that I'm apart of has learned to grieve well.  We tell people that we are professional grievers-we've got this thing down to a science.  Melva was to be buried in Arkansas.  May is in the middle of baseball season, and we had three boys that were playing.  We headed to Arkansas about 10 pm one night after a round of baseball games. 

We just knew the kids would keep us awake.  Oh no, by Big Spring every last one of them was out for the count.  It was up to Donna and I to keep Michael awake all night.  Remember that it was Bill Clinton's first year in office, and he had resided in the small town of Hope, Arkansas.  And, as luck would have it, that's where Mike's family is from, and of course, that's where we were headed.  And, if you know my husband at all, you know he detested Bill Clinton from the beginning. 

As we are getting closer and closer to Arkansas Donna and I saw that we might have a problem.  All along the interstate were big signs saying, "Welcome to Arkansas, Home of William Jefferson Clinton, President of the United States."  We were terrified that Mike would read those signs and we would do a u-turn in the median and head back to Dallas.  Michael scowled all the way into Hope while Donna and I laughed like drunken sailors.  Have mercy.

You know, we survived that year, every last one of us.  We survived because we knew a God who could be trusted.  We survived because people we didn't even know were praying for us.  We survived because life goes on, and it's not about us, or even any of those we lost that year.  There are days I still grieve over them. 

I can also say that because of that pivotal year not only was my faith strengthened, but so was the faith of my children.  I think that year was the year God became VERY real to each one of them.  It was no longer their parents' faith - it became their faith, and He became their God.  I would love to say that it was easy, but it wasn't.  We asked the hard questions, and we struggled.  And yes, our kids knew we were struggling. 

As we've talked and walked through the years things come up, and the parallel to that year is so very obvious.  And the lessons we learned still hold true. God is the same, yesterday, today, and forever.

Because we have a faithful God and a mighty God, we also made it through the firestorm that was 2007.  There were many people praying for us that year too.  Friends, family, and tons we don't even know.  Thank you. 

One of the conference speakers said that if you've ever wrestled with God you'll never be the same.  He was right.  Jacob had a limp for the rest of his life after his encounter with God.  The speaker even said to beware of someone who claims to be a man of God who doesn't walk with a limp.  Intriguing thought.  Our family has limp-ers, and when we forget God reminds us.  Do you have a limp?  God is faithful.  God is mighty.  And He would love to wrestle with you so that you can learn first-hand that He is faithful, and He is mighty.

Freedom and Joy

Freedom.  It's not a word I take lightly.  I suspect it has a different meaning for each of us, depending on where we've been and what life has dealt us.

For some it has a patriotic ring; a love of country and the ability to speak what's on your mind.  Or the ability to work in a way that emphasizes your talents, interests, and desires.  Or the ability to vote for whomever or whatever you choose in any election in which you choose to participate.  Or the ability to not vote at all.

For most kids I've known or worked with it has more to do with freedom from rules imposed by their parents or some other authority figure in their world.  I was always amazed at how each one of them thought they were the only ones whose parents hindered their freedom -- a rite of passage I think.  I was more intrigued with those in foster care who felt that in a 'real' family the rules wouldn't be nearly as confining.  To some extent they were right, but not in the areas they would have expected.  It was a continual source of debate, and unfortunately for some, their quest for 'freedom' ended tragically.  Heartbreaking still for those of us who love them and want for them the very best.

For still others freedom is a financial goal, a life in which they are able to do what they please whenever and however they choose without the restraint of work requirements and not having to use all of their funds just to pay the bills.  Enough money to play and not be dependent on anyone else.

For me freedom is probably some of all of the above and much more.  In the spring of 1986 while going through intense substance abuse counseling for addiction issues in our family, I was given permission to no longer be the peacemaker and to no longer be manipulated by guilt.  That was the beginning of my journey to freedom.

It has not always been a pleasant journey.  I have disappointed many, fought many others, and made some enemies along the way.  I also like to think that I've encouraged a few, challenged some to a new way of thinking, and brought hope to those held captive. 

My freedom is more about living in the real world, with a real God, who is relevant and not afraid of the hard questions.  It's about leaving shame and guilt behind.  It's more about 'being' than about 'doing'.  It's about not trying to force a round peg into a square hole.  It's about not focusing on the 'thou shalt nots' and focusing on Christ and the abundant life He offers.  It's about living in peace even in the midst of horrific chaos.  It's about knowing who ultimately has your back.  It's about knowing the God of the universe who longs for a relationship with each of us and doesn't care if our quiet time is in the morning or in the evening (or if we use KJV or NIV or ESV or . . .).  And I've learned that dancing unto the Lord is a precious gift. 

Galatians 5:1 "For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." 

  John 14:6 "Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me." 

John 8:32 "and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." 

John 8:36 "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."

Freedom.  Joy.  Peace.  He offers them all.  Come and see . . .

It's Christmas!!!

The tree is up, the house is decorated, the cards are sent, most of the gifts purchased (even a few wrapped), and menus are loosely planned.  Yesterday I finally got most of my Christmas music uploaded to iTunes and made a playlist for my iPod.  By the time I figure the iPod out completely there will be something else . . .  alas.  I am missing a few of my Christmas CDs which makes me sad.  How can you have a rockin' Christmas without Chicago?  Dang it!

This morning I've been listening to that playlist.  Everything from John Berry singing O Holy Night to someone else singing Dominic the Donkey (heehaw heehaw).  Yes, there must be variety or I would surely die.  And then came Mercy Me singing their version of The Little Drummer Boy and Casting Crowns singing While You Were Sleeping.  Wow.  I was blown away by the simplicity and cutting truth of the lyrics.

I don't know about you, but I'm really good at making excuses before God.  Lots of times I lean heavily on the passage in Psalm 103:13 & 14.  As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion on those who fear Him.  For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.  But Mercy Me's version of The Little Drummer Boy has the vocalist singing, "I'll play my best for you, I'll play my best for Christ." 

Casting Crowns reminds us in one line how far from Truth we've come and how crazy is this world in which we live.  ". . . Looks like another silent night, As we're sung to sleep by philosophies, that save the trees and kill the children . . ."  Paul warns us in Colossians to not be taken captive by philosophy and empty deceit.  

This Christmas may we bring our BEST to Christ, and may we be salt and light to those captives who long to be set free.

Merry Christmas from our house to yours.

Good Times

Denise Kelly introduced me to Creative Memories the summer before Nathan's senior year in high school.  There were several reasons for my excitement about the company.  One, there was finally a way to capture the essence of the photo not just on film, but with journaling as well.  Two, maybe, just maybe, we could do something with the thousands of pictures we had in boxes.  Three, the products are designed to last -- a very long time.  (anybody else have faded pictures in sticky books?)  I determined during our very first meeting that I would create a senior album for each one of the kids.  And, I did.  And each one received their book within the year of their high school graduation.  (one of my more amazing accomplishments I think)

Mike and I are getting the house ready for lots of company next week.  Thanksgiving is my very favorite holiday.  Fellowship and food--the gift of family, friendship, and fun without the bother and stress of Christmas.  While we were rearranging furniture we ran across a box of things his siblings had gathered for him after Grandma died.  We have plenty of space in a filing cabinet we use and the decision was made to file it away at a later time.

This afternoon that was my task.  I found birth announcements for several of Mike's cousins and a note to Mike from a friend at church who had pinned him during his induction into Permian High School's National Honor Society.  There were church bulletins from special events and even one from Bacon Heights in Lubbock.  There were obituaries of those we've loved and lost.  There were thank you notes from several that Pop and Gram had blessed in some way through the years.  There was even a picture one of the kids had drawn of Pop's work.  There were report cards and scholarship letters.  Lots of memories.


But what sparked my interest the most were the photographs.  Several of our first Christmas as a married couple.  I'd forgotten Donna and I were so thin back in the day.  (What happened?)  There were pictures of Mike growing up.  Baseball, football, birthdays were all marked by pictures.  There was one of him in his baseball uniform standing in front of the infamous storage shed.  (he and Terry used to 'shoot' Donna off of it)  My favorite has to be one of him and Granny Ray grinning at each other the night he graduated from high school.  Priceless.  I wonder what the secret was?  There's a picture of Mike, Donna, and Terry as little guys.  Michael may have been five.  I was mesmerized by their hands.  Each little hand was telling its own story.


There were other photos.  Several taken of Pop and Gram during happier times.  The last few years so overshadowed my memories that I had forgotten other times--the good times.


I know everyone doesn't like to record memories the way I do.  And really, I don't mean for this to be a Creative Memories commercial, but have you collected a few things and made notes about them?  Some day your family will be going through your stuff.  Will there be items there to remind them of the good times?  Will there be pictures but no stories to go with them?  The 'why' answered for the shared grin?  I hope so.  Today I was unexpectedly blessed by pictures from the past.  It might have been better if there were a few stories written somewhere about those pictures!!

What Am I Supposed to be Doing?

Yesterday I was cleaning out files.  When we moved two years ago we didn't have a lot of time to get things packed and all of my work and home files were just thrown in boxes and loaded.  One of my goals while not working is to go back through and get rid of more 'stuff.'  All of that to say I ran across some notes from 2006 that were helpful to me at the time.  Maybe the message of those notes will encourage you as well.

Dr. Randy Hatchett was the interim pastor at Immanuel for awhile.  He is also a professor at Houston Baptist University.  His sermons are the kind that make you think well into the week (and future) about truths revealed.  One of them was based on 1 Samuel 30.

Basically David and his men are hired mercenaries to the Philistines, but the Philistines are preparing for battle against the Hebrews. The higher ups tell David and his men they cannot participate.  So, David and his men pack up their gear and head down to Ziklag.  


When David and his men arrive at Ziklag they find it plundered and burned by the Amalekites.  All of the women and children have been taken captive.  The men are very upset and decide that stoning David might be a great idea.  David calls for the ephod and inquires of God whether or not he and his men should pursue the Amalekites.  God tells David that he will be successful in his quest.


The men get to the Brook of Besor and some of them are too worn out and exhausted to continue.  Two hundred of them stay behind while the other four hundred continue on.  They happen to stumble upon an Egyptian slave who has been left for dead.


David stops to render aid, very uncommon in those days, but the slave has information David needs in order to rescue the women and children.  Of course, David doesn't know this at the time.  He just happened to see another person in need and stops--an 'interruption' if you will.


Information provided by the slave leads David and his men to the camp of the Amalekites.  True to God's word, they are successful in rescuing the women and children.  God also gives them the plunder of the Amalekites.  (By the way, the Amalekites are dreadful--you should read about them some time!)


The point is that God uses us to extend his circle of mercy to others, and in doing so he gives us information as to what our next move may or may not be.  David not only helps the slave, but later insists that ALL of his men share in the spoils of the plunder, not just those that went on.  


We all come to the Brook of Besor--you know, that place in time where we absolutely cannot continue.  Sometimes we need others to fight the battle for us--and then share the plunder--grace and mercy.  Sometimes we are the ones who continue on and do battle.  Then we are responsible for sharing the plunder--grace and mercy--with those around us who can't go on.  Sometimes we are the slave who has the information needed to continue the battle.


God uses each of us in different ways at different times.  But we get so focused on the question of 'what is God's will' and being annoyed by the 'interruptions' getting in our way to reach 'God's will' that we forget to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God. (Micah 6:8)  We forget that the 'interruptions' ARE the calling.  We make it hard.  God makes it simple.  "Follow me," he says.  And if we follow him, his will is to invite others to "come and see."


I don't know which role you are playing today.  My prayer for each of you is that you have friends who will stand up and do battle for you when you can't go on--or that you will have the strength and wisdom to do battle for others in your midst who can't go on.  May you share your plunder--wisdom, strength, grace, mercy--unselfishly.  If you're the slave, speak truth.  You may have a piece of wisdom or advice that someone else desperately needs to hear.  Follow me.  Come and see.  Come and see that God is good.

The Law of the Harvest

As a young mother at home with three preschool children time could be a little intimidating.  I was so wrapped up in my own world that I jokingly tell people I have no idea what happened in the world-at-large between 1980 and 1985.  Actually, I remember a couple of things -- I remember when Mount St. Helen's erupted, and I remember Anwar Sadat's assassination and funeral.

Many times I listened to different pastors on the radio to keep a little sanity going--adult conversation and all that stuff you know.  My favorites were Dr. Charles (Chuck) Swindoll and Dr. Charles Stanley.  Both of these men have greatly influenced my spiritual life, and their wisdom played a large role in raising my children.  I forget that until an event reminds me of some nugget of truth they shared many years ago.


Dr. Stanley talked often about the law of the harvest.  My grandparents farmed, one of my uncle's farmed, another had orchards, and Mike's aunt and uncle had a greenhouse and orchards as well.  This was information I needed to know, so I paid close attention.  It goes like this: 


1)  You reap what you sow


2)  You reap later than you sow


3)  You reap more than you sow


Mull that over in your brain for awhile.  I've been 'mulling' that over for at least a couple of decades now.  The ramifications are staggering.  


The thing is, it doesn't matter 'what' you sow, the law stays the same.  So, if I sow kindness, graciousness, humor, etc, I'll reap what I sow.  I'll reap later than I sow.  I'll reap more than I sow.  The same thing goes for grumbling, complaining, laziness, etc.


This law of the harvest comes into play in every aspect of our lives.  Sobering isn't it?  Paul says in Philippians, "Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things."

May we all strive to sow things that would glorify God.

Baseball & Waiting

Spring is a time of great anticipation around our house.  The countdown begins for Spring Training, which ultimately leads to a countdown of the official start to Major League Baseball.  The schedule is looked over numerous times with a few specific games highlighted and others listed as possibilities for the whole family to attend.  This year we even bought a mini-flex plan for the Oklahoma City Redhawks AAA team, which to our delight is part of the Texas Rangers franchise.  Nothing like getting to see your favorite players doing rehab work!

Our household is a little divided when it comes to baseball.  We all root for the Rangers, well except for Jason,  who has always had a thing for the Astros.  Jeanna has decided to follow in her Grandma's footsteps and roots for the Yankees -- the evil empire if you will.  Nathan then decided he would follow the Red Sox, just to make things interesting.  Mike roots for anyone playing the Yankees, and I mostly just keep my mouth shut.  I do fuss at the Rangers a lot.  They seem to make a habit of trading my favorite players.  It's very annoying.

This year our first game was to watch the Redhawks on the first night of the season.  It was a week night and since it was the season opener fireworks were scheduled immediately following the game.  The Redhawks were down by a few points, but in the bottom of the 8th they tied the game.  After 12 innings of play (if I remember correctly) they finally won the game.  Unfortunately, due to the lateness of the hour there may have been five people left at the stadium to actually watch the fireworks -- and we were not part of the five.

That seemed to set a precedent for the rest of the season.  It seemed that every game we attended went into extra innings.  Our team could be ahead by 7 runs, but the other team more often than not would tie it up in the 7th or 8th inning and there we were.  At one of the games there was a one hour rain delay.  Seriously.  The game ended at 12:15 a.m. or some such.  And you must understand that my husband and my children are FANS.  You NEVER leave early. 

Now don't misunderstand.  I love the game.  It's just that in recent years I've developed the attention span of a gnat and sitting still and waiting is pretty much a torturous ordeal.  You have no idea...

Psalm 46:10 says "Be still and know that I am God."  It's easy not to think of God and His precepts when we are busy.  It's not that we don't want to ignore Him, it's just that in the busyness of life it's easy to push anything serious to the back burner of thought.  When we have to be still and wait, the brain and the heart seem to get together and require us to think, and to question, and to confess, and to listen, and maybe the most difficult - to bow the knee.

The Ranger's byline all year has been "It's Time!"  At our house, we love it!  And we agree.  But maybe, just maybe 'It's Time' to be still and KNOW that He is God.  How is your attention span when it comes to what God is asking you to know?