Looking Up

He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters (Psalm 23:2)

My mother used to make me take naps when I was a young child, as I also did with my own child. Naps are wonderful things, aren’t they? They provide rest and refreshment, as well as the nurturing of growth and development. When we’re kids, we often rebel against them, thinking them unfair restrictions on our play time. As grown-ups, we may appreciate the physical and mental benefits of a nap, but the demands of adulthood often keep us (or discourage us) from partaking.

Even though we may have aged out of regularly-scheduled naptime, there are times when we are forced to take a rest – whether we want to or not. Stress piles up and affects the body in numerous ways, often in the form of illness or other ailments.  For me it tends to be migraines. We are reminded that we cannot do everything and we are in fact in control of very little. Never is this more apparent than when our bodies give out under the strain of our feverish lives.

In his book "God’s Psychiatry," Charles Allen further describes the relationship between sheep and shepherd: "…the shepherd starts the sheep grazing about 4 o’clock in the morning. The sheep walk steadily as they graze; they are never still. By 10 o’clock, the sun is beaming down and the sheep are hot, tired, and thirsty. The wise shepherd knows that the sheep must not drink when it is hot, neither when its stomach is filled with undigested grass. So the shepherd makes the sheep lie down in green pastures, in a cool, soft spot. The sheep will not eat lying down, so he chews his cud, which is nature’s way of digestion."

Not only do we need physical rest, but we also need nourishment and refreshment. Human beings cannot survive for long periods without nutrients and fluids, and we certainly cannot thrive on grease and caffeine. Our bodies have needs and limitations which must be respected, no matter how frantically we pace ourselves. I’ll never forget how famished I was after my daughter was born. Her needs occupied every waking moment, such that I didn’t take time to eat until I was almost falling over from hunger. I felt inadequate and fearful that this was how life would always be. And then the doorbell rang and in walked some friends of ours, armed with grilled pork chops, mashed potatoes, broccoli-cheese casserole, rolls hot from the oven, and a perfectly plump and juicy apple pie. To say that I licked my plate clean would be an understatement.  Never before and not since has a meal refreshed me so completely.

The sheep is fearful of moving water because it cannot swim. It will not drink from swift waters, even if it is parched. The shepherd understands this and does not try to change it; rather, as Charles Allen states, "As he leads his sheep across the mountains and valleys, he is constantly on the watch for still waters where the thirst of the sheep may be quenched. If there are no still waters available, while the sheep are resting, the shepherd will gather up stones to fashion a dam across a small stream to form a pool from which even the tiniest lamb may drink without fear."

Our Heavenly Father knows us completely, including our needs, our strengths, our fears, and our limitations.  Just as the sheep depends upon the wisdom and compassion of the shepherd to meet its needs, so too can we confidently depend on our Shepherd to meet ours.  It is to our benefit to remember this as we carry about our day, but if we should forget, let us not complain when we are made to lie down.  For, as Charles Allen asserts, it is often when we are lying flat on our backs that we are finally forced to look up.

A Simple Slice of Bread

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. (Psalm 23:1)

Several years ago, a dear friend and I read a book entitled "God’s Psychiatry" by Charles L. Allen, and my Bible study group is reading it today. First published in 1953, the book breaks down the Bible’s most influential and well-known verses into a scripturally sound, thought-provoking, easy to understand narrative. Specifically, the book discusses the Twenty-Third Psalm, the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, and the Beatitudes.  Based on may of the intriguing insights the author had, I felt it would be appropriate to share some of them in this blog.

The 23rd Psalm is perhaps the most highly-recognized of all 150 psalms, recited frequently at funerals – and for good reason. It is not about death; rather, it is about the confidence and comfort we find in God. So powerful are the truths contained in this psalm that Charles Allen has prescribed the daily reading and mediation of it as a cure for distress of many kinds. He may be onto something. Have you ever really thought about the words – I mean really let them sink into your bones? I admit that I have not.  Perhaps like other verses or phrases we've heard often in life - biblical or otherwise - repetition can sometimes cause us to lose the impact.

I’ve also never really stopped to consider the depth of God’s comparison of us to sheep. My 21st Century mental picture of a flock of sheep looks something like this: they are dumb and half-blind, always in danger and at the mercy of everything around them – thus in need of a shepherd to guard them and get them safely from point A to point B. I can see how I am much like a sheep, in need of God’s guidance. As always seems to be the case, though, there’s much more to it than that. Charles Allen states, "Instinctively, the sheep knows the shepherd has made plans for its grazing tomorrow. He knows the shepherd made ample provision for it today, so will he tomorrow, so the sheep lies down in its fold…" Notice that this verse does not say "I hope God will be my shepherd." It says, "God IS my shepherd." That fact that God IS means that I shall not want.

To further illustrate this point, the author offers a story so touching, it begs to be shared: "Immediately after World War II, the Allied Forces gathered up many hungry, homeless children and placed them in large camps. There the children were abundantly fed and cared for. However, at night they did not sleep well. They seemed restless and afraid. Finally, a psychologist hit on a solution. After the children were put to bed, they each received a slice of bread to hold. If they wanted more to eat, more was provided, but this particular slice was not to be eaten – it was just to hold. The slice of bread produced marvelous results. The child would go to sleep, subconsciously feeling it would have something to eat tomorrow. The assurance gave the child a calm and peaceful rest."

No matter what we’ve lost, no matter what tomorrow holds, we can rest assured that God will be with us and our needs will be provided for. We can rest comfortably, slice of bread in hand, because the Lord IS our shepherd. We shall not want.

In Times of Drought

On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” (John 7:37-38)

Other than the presidential race, the most enduring news from the summer is the drought impacting much of the nation.  High temperature records are being broken nearly every day.  Rain is scarce and when it comes, it’s usually accompanied by damaging winds and lightning.  Corn and soybean crops are withering away, which will soon affect prices at the grocery store.  Rationing on the use of water is likely just around the corner.

All of this got me to thinking about a drought of a different kind – a drought of faith.  When folks don’t have Christ in their lives – or if He has been pushed aside by the demands and sufferings that come with living in the world – then a drought ensues.  Just like with the physical drought our nation is experiencing now, it is possible to function in the midst of a faith drought.  One can continue to work and engage in daily activities, but there’s something missing and although it’s hard to pinpoint, it’s tangible – a spark, a sense of purpose, a feeling of direction, of genuineness, of acceptance, or of love.  The absence of these things does not prevent one from getting through the day, but the weight of that absence makes it more difficult and far less joyful.  The longer the drought, the more difficult it becomes.

If you recall, 2011 was an especially wet year for this part of the country – the annual rainfall total was well above normal.  We were thankful for the water we needed and we did our best to deal with the excess and the gloomy skies.  This year, we are baked and arid, the mere sight of a cloudy sky filling us with hope.  Generations of humanity have dealt with the cyclical changes of Creation.  But whether it’s a time of feast or famine, in nature or in our souls, there is a well-spring of Life at the ready.  He is always waiting to fill us up when we are empty, and He gives us the desire to water the souls of those around us when our cups run over.  All we need is to trust the endurance of the source.

No matter what season we may be in, if we trust in Jesus with all that we have, rivers of living water will flow from within us, nourishing ourselves and those around us – at exactly the right time, in exactly the right amount.  It will flow from within us because that is where the Spirit of the Living God resides – and only good can flow from God’s dwelling place.

A Marvelous Collision

Lord, my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.  (Psalm 30:2)

If you listen to Christian rock on the radio, you've likely heard by now the newest installment from the band MercyMe, entitled "The Hurt and the Healer."  I don't know about you, but music speaks to me in a way that words on a page simply cannot.  The Bible speaks of the healing power of faith in Christ, timeless words that clearly convey God's love for us.  But when someone puts that truth into song, it saturates the heart in miraculous ways.  MeryMe's song is one of those heart-saturating truth-tellers for me.  Sometimes I sing it with passion behind the wheel of my car, while other times I just listen, the lump in my throat forbidding me to utter a sound.  But always, I feel compelled to add a resounding "Amen."

I love to write, although evidenced by my sparse posting on this blog of late, sometimes I can't seem to grasp what I want to say.  Blogger's block, I suppose?  I recently entered a short story in a writing contest, my first-ever attempt at fiction.  I have no illusions of winning anything, but the submission process got me to thinking.  A little-known fact about me is that I am actually published.  There is a story tucked away in the latter half of a book published a few years ago, a story written from the depths of me - so personal, in fact, that I opted to use a pen name.  I received no compensation for it and only a handful of people in the world know that I authored it.  The story is my testimony, and had MeryMe's song been around at the time, I might have stolen their title.  Among a handful of writing I have submitted for publication over the years, only this was chosen for publication.  I pray this means that my testimony is touching a life or two out there.  I will never know in this life, but the privilege of worshipping God on paper is in itself a reward beyond compare.

Simply put, there is nothing more miraculous, more significant to me, than the marvelous result from the collision between a person's hurt and his/her healer.  It took me much too long to realize who that healer is - not a friend, not someone who pretends to be a friend, not a psychologist, nor a bottle filled with booze or pills.  Now that I know Jesus is the healer of all our hurts - no matter how big or small - I can't help but to share the cure with others.  The One who took upon His flesh the sins of the world knows a thing or two about hurt.  The One who rose from the dead, tearing the veil separating us from God, also knows a thing or two about healing.  Thank you, Lord, for loving us...for loving me...that much.

Haven't heard "The Hurt and the Healer"?  Take a listen:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeNSlQWdgec&feature=related

Blessings to all,
Becky

Judging the Kiwi

Man looks at outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7b

At the first night of VBS this week, the kids learned the above verse that echoes (or perhaps gave birth to) the popular phrase, “don’t judge a book by its cover.”  This is one of those life lessons that we hear so many times through the years that it almost becomes lost in translation.  We know that a person’s true worth is found within, and yet we still have a hard time looking past the exterior.  This is certainly true in our evaluations of others, but it’s also true in terms of how we view ourselves.  If we don’t look a certain way – whether by the shape of our bodies or the clothes we throw on them – then we tend to feel “lesser” than others.  By contrast, when we happen to be sporting the latest style, we feel pretty good about ourselves.  The problem of course is that no amount of style can enhance or mask what lives inside us, where cellulite and fashion have no place.

Supposedly, human beings are hard-wired to be attracted to features in others that would be considered “genetically strong,” such as symmetry.  The theory behind this is that we are drawn to folks that have the best possible chance of promoting the strongest/healthiest human traits going forward.  I don’t know about that, but what I do know is that God created us to love others as a direct reflection of His love.  The last time I checked, such love has zero physical stipulations attached to it; rather, it requires a heart for service and a soul filled with the loving power of the Holy Spirit.  Whether the scientists are accurate or not doesn’t really matter in terms of the fate of humanity.  Instead of searching for the physical traits that promote strong genetics, we should instead seek out, lift up and “procreate” the predisposition for love that we all possess.

Each of us has a story to tell that would perfectly illustrate the importance of looking at the heart.  Each of us has encountered someone with less-than-desirable physical traits who is a genuinely loving, compassionate person.  More commonly than that, perhaps, are stories we could tell of attractive, well-groomed folks whose words and deeds reflected a rotting interior.  The trick is in being able to evaluate others the way God does, which we could perhaps best do blindfolded.

Whenever I think of this particular lesson, I think of the kiwi, that delightfully delicious tropical fruit with the vibrant green interior.  In terms of its flavor, it is one of my most favorite fruits.  But let’s be honest – it is as ugly a thing to behold as you can find.  If we judged the kiwi strictly by its outward appearance, no one would ever touch it.  Actually, I’m amazed that at some point in human history, some curious and perhaps famished soul decided to throw caution to the wind, crack one open and give it a taste.  Whoever this person was, he or she was operating entirely on the faith that something better was within. 

Maybe we’ll never be able to completely shirk off the tendency to be attracted to outward beauty, but let’s not forget that when we bypass someone who doesn’t fit our criteria for beauty, we might just be missing out on a kiwi.

Graduating With His Honor

Whether graduating from high school, college, graduate school or a training program, there is something uniquely special about transitioning from a structured, formalized educational program to an environment in which that education is expected to translate into success. It is a time to reflect upon and celebrate all the hard work, fun, and personal sacrifice that went into achieving this milestone. It’s a time to sincerely thank the parents, teachers, mentors and friends that sacrificed, supported, pushed and prodded to ensure success and happiness. It’s also a time to plan for a future that will be fulfilling, meaningful and honorable.

There are many unique and useful skills one learns through schooling, knowledge that applies directly to professional aptitude in specific disciplines. Even if one obtains the highest degree possible in a given field, there is always more that can be learned. In an increasingly competitive job market, education is more valuable than ever. Ultimate success, however, cannot be defined or quantified by a diploma in a frame or letters after one’s name. True success begins and ends with the source of our knowledge, our drive to learn, and our talents: our Father in heaven.

The working adults and retirees among us will likely all attest to the fact that one’s character and work ethic are far more important in our work than our educational attainment. I would venture to say that the majority of textbook learning is fairly useless, in and of itself. The dedication to learning the material in that textbook, to seeing it through no matter how interesting or objectionable it may be, is an indication of strength, maturity, and nobility. Such dedication can and should translate to any job that we do, whether it’s flipping burgers or running a major corporation. Such dedication is what earns us promotions, raises and – most importantly – the approval of our Creator.

Whether we are a day past graduation or decades past it, our learning never ends, nor does our obligation to work hard, treat others well, and conduct ourselves with honesty and integrity. Even if all we graduated from was the "school of hard knocks," we all have the same marching orders. They’ve come directly from the only teacher we’ll ever need, our Lord Jesus. When the textbooks are long forgotten, collecting dust on a basement shelf, the lessons from our Teacher apply eternally. If we forget them or are tempted to stray from them, His lesson plan is always at our fingertips, His Word applicable to any job, any profession, and any circumstance we may face.

This graduation season, let us all celebrate the milestones and success that our friends and family members have achieved. Let us also remember that the fruits of that hard work are born from dedication to following Jesus Christ in all that we do. Ultimate success is realized in striving daily to be His living light in our little corner of the world.

Letter to His Mother

Dear Mary,

On Mother’s Day, who better to write about than the earthly mother of our Lord and Savior? There is no woman I could admire more; for, though my own mother birthed me into this world, it is your son who gave me life. My mother raised me and nurtured me, directly impacting the woman I have become. But it is your son who has given me a purpose for living and a direction for my life.

From the very beginning, you possessed a depth of faith I have sought most of my life. Carrying the savior of the world in your womb, you did not question the truth or validity of your purpose. Although you likely felt the weight of the responsibility you bore in carrying out God’s plan, you never doubted that God would see you safely through.

I can only imagine what it was like for you to raise Jesus as any mother raises her child. I’ve often wondered if He suffered from the "terrible twos" or if He was as perfect in childhood as He was in adulthood. I’m sure that while you never forgot who He was during His younger years, you likely stepped into the daily routine all parents fall into with their children. I’m sure you grew quite attached to this fine boy, beaming with the pride and joy all mothers share.

When it was time for Jesus to start the ministry He had been called to, I wonder if you felt humble and grateful that your son had made it safely to this point, or did you feel a pang of sadness to know that His ministry would take Him to places far removed from where most mothers would dare to travel? You trusted in God’s promise that Jesus would be the long-sought savior of the people, but I can’t imagine how difficult it was to witness the cruelty and suffering heaped upon Him. Dare I say that not even the promises of the sovereign Lord can completely ease the breaking of a mother’s heart when her child suffers pain and injustice?

You and your son are joyously reunited for all eternity as He sits at the right hand of the Father. I for one am incapable of fully understanding the grace of the risen Christ. The depth of His sacrifice is incomprehensible. But the mother in me can appreciate – if only by a fraction – the depth of your sacrifice. By your faith, my Savior was born into the world to dwell among men and to set us free by grace. By your faith, the path to freedom and eternal life was paved.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mary. I can’t wait to one day meet the mother of the One who gave me life.

Sincerely,
A grateful child of our wonderful Lord