His Will Be Done

This morning I sat down at the computer to write today’s blog post feeling in tune with the subject matter I felt the Lord was giving me. I love writing the most when I know that I am simply being fingers on the keyboard for the Lord because there is so little effort, the words flow and I see them for the first time as they spread across the screen before me. That’s an awesome experience. So, this morning felt like a good writing morning before I even started. God is good!

As I typed out the message I felt the familiar holy tap on my shoulder and, though not actually audible, I heard that this message was one for someone at church. I do not know who but I do know God can even use little ole’ me to get His message to someone or many. I am just thankful He uses me at all. I write a weekly mini-blog-like article for church and knew that meant I must format and condense the message to fit, my only responsibility; the message…His.

It has happened that something I thought I was writing for the church turned into a blog posting and vice versa. I just let it flow until it is done. My Honey asked me how long I made each posting. My answer was not what he was looking for but it was accurate…I write until it’s done. I always know when something is ‘done’ because anything I add on my own rings sour in my ear as I read it. I take away anything that is my contribution and leave the meat and bones of the message from God. Yes, I use my life and family in the examples of life lessons God gives us because that is the way God showed me He could use me most effectively. He showed me this in one giant light bulb moment! Here’s a Reader’s Digest Condensed version of that moment:

Years ago I knew that if I was to be an effective witness for the Lord I needed to step out of my comfort zone and share. I felt inadequate, unskilled, not spiritual enough, not learned enough, you name it! If it was an adjective describing someone not qualified to witness for the Lord…it was me. I had a friend, Katy Brigmon, who along with her husband, Ron, was over the Central Texas Prison Fellowship ministry. My desire to serve Him was urgent and large so I asked Katy if I could tag along sometime to see what prison ministry was all about. She excitedly told me of the coming weekend’s trip to minister in a women’s facility that housed mostly drug offenders and the lessons to be covered were on parenting. As a friend I sought out for prayer, Katy knew things about what I refer to as ‘the hellion years’ I had raising teenage rebellious daughters; surely that would have been enough to make her aware I was not ‘parenting’ teaching material. I remaindered her of this and she smiled saying the ladies would relate to me much better than they ever could with her two kids, big dog, and station wagon driving perfect family image. (My words, not hers) I thought she lost her mind but I agreed to go just to watch. Ha, ha…God’s sense of humor and Katy’s insight threw me in the deep end and I learned a valuable lesson in trusting God over my abilities!

I was assigned my own small group of women to lead through the materials. First, we had to share a bit about ourselves with our group and basically give our testimony of how God worked in our lives. Looking into the faces of these women you could easily see those that were receptive and those that blatantly dared you to try to teach them anything. My life had a lot of good in it but it was also filled with a lot of ugliness, some foisted upon me and some of my own doing. As I shared my personal experiences of all God brought me through in spite of myself, my giant light bulb moment revealed to me in the most profound way how God had turned all the ugliness, heartache and pain I had lived through into something useful and good for reaching these women. They listened to me with open ears and hearts because I had walked in their shoes, knew their pain, felt the abuse, despair and agony of life without Jesus as my Lord. It was one of the few single moments in time that stamp their impression on your heart so deeply you remember every vivid detail and emotion! It was in that moment I saw and believed for the first time that God could and would use me to share my life experiences as a teaching tool to reach others for Him. I have been a willing vessel of his messages ever since.

I have said before I do not share my life to say ‘look at me’ but only to show God-given life lessons are all around us; we need only be receptive to and watching for them. God is in the details, the smallest of moments, the most out-of-the-box situations as well as the grand and obvious. On my living room wall there hangs a pair of wooden shoe stretchers as feet; below them, on the floor, a small leather suitcase. These symbolize our readiness and willingness to go where ever God directs us for His purposes. Between times of marching orders, I will continue to write and share the lessons God gives from daily life. I rarely know if anyone is reading much less being touched by God through what I share but I do know that it is His message going out, not mine. His will be done!

Four Letter Words

Long ago in a far away land and what seems like another lifetime I had struggled and battled depression. Depression, as the TV commercial says, hurts everywhere and everyone whose life is touched by it. I’m not here to debate depression but to share a life lesson that came from my time of struggle. I’m here to talk about four letter words.

Without boring you with detail, I entered into group counseling for the depression. The counselor was an impressive woman of God, Sister Mary. If you have visions of sweet little novice nuns flying thru the air or skipping and singing on mountain tops, you are not accurately envisioning Sister Mary. Her well known and profoundly descriptive nickname around the counseling center was Sister Mary Chainsaw. She could chew you up and spit you out in tiny mangled pieces without blinking an eye. Not being Catholic, I had no previous experience or exposure to nuns; this came as a shock to me. I, too, had the visions of flying guitar playing nanny nuns. It just occurred to me that Sister Mary Chainsaw was, in and of herself, a form of shock therapy!

Sister Mary Chainsaw had what we now call Zero Tolerance for self pity or denial of facts. No one was exempt from her steely gaze under which your resolve to hide or try to redirect attention to someone else (and their issues) failed miserably. I found myself the focus of a Sister Mary Chainsaw smack-down more times than I care to count. And some of you think I’m blunt and to the point…I’ve got nothing on her!

What I took away from that season of my life was her disgust with the misuse of the word ‘should’. She said ‘should’ was no better than a foul four letter word because of the damage it could cause. People beaten down under the weight of all the ‘should’ other people load on their backs are carrying a burden of man, not God. Depression, consequently, is a man-made issue. That stuck with me.

There are many people out there that will gladly tell you what you should have done; armchair quarterbacks of your life. They can clearly see the error of your ways and present you with a laundry list of better options…in retrospect…after the fact…with 20/20 hindsight. They also frequently use words like ‘always’ and ‘never’. Not only can these words be inflammatory, they are most often inaccurate.

In conclusion let me simply say we should carefully choose the words we use and always be on guard so that we never lay our burden of weighty foul four letter words (regardless of the actual letter count) on others. See, the words should, always and never do not have to be foul four letter words….but too often they are used as tools to cripple, control and manipulate. We’ve all had people in our lives we might like to lock in a room with Sister Mary Chainsaw for a couple of rounds but my charge to us all today is that we diligently work to insure we are NOT guilty of being one of them in the life of someone else! A little Sister Mary Chainsaw goes a long way and still impacts my world today. What a blessing on my life she was! Wish I could tell her but I bet she already knows; Sister Mary knew everything!

Mexican Petunias – 1, Lynn – 0

Delighting in the absolutely perfect weather yesterday I took the opportunity to spend time out in the yard. I can not “do” full sun so this glorious late February morning beckoned me with urgency. I made the usual walk about around the raised veggie bed and dug out some pesky bull nettle trying to grab hold.

Moving on to the Herb Canoe I pulled out the growing and dead stuff of curious origins. We have a weed that looks similar to cilantro that grows profusely all over the place. You can not kill this stuff! Cilantro is a household favorite and has self-seeded for years….this year it missed the boat…literally! No cilantro waving about in the boat but it is growing well in patches located around the canoe. Any attempts to mow that area would take out not only my beloved cilantro but the Bluebonnet plants intermingled with them. Yea, another excuse not to mow or weed-eat! You just do not mess with cilantro and Bluebonnets in our part of Texas.

Dancing around the back yard like a wood nymph in the moonlight I felt so full of energy and vigor I braved the front yard. It’s not a yard really; it’s the downhill side and majority of our one acre. I tiptoed through the native yuccas and remains of my rock garden making my way to the swing about half way down the hill in the one shady spot out there. The view is beautiful looking north-northwest from that swing. Oh the hours, days and gallons of sweat that went into creating a small flat tier to sit that A-frame on! Thankfully the older grandsons still resided here and child labor was abundant. Thank you, Lord, for grandsons! It was all worth it in the end and we have enjoyed many years of ‘swingin’ together admiring God’s handiwork. Ok, we admired our handiwork, too. The ‘new’ has worn off and hill country vegetation has taken a foothold once again but the splendor of the view from the swing still captivates and entices.

To get to front yard I had to pass by my wild and wooly bed of Mexican Petunias. I wish I could take credit for its glorious splendor but they grow profusely regardless of attention or neglect. Ascending the driveway they greet you at the top of the hill, waving their purple jewels in the slightest of breezes. Mine have grown very tall, some taller than my 5’ 3” stature. So, in their time of winter hibernation, I decided this day of perfect weather was THE day to prune them back to a more manageable size before new growth caused me pause and guilt over said pruning. I was singing like one of the Seven Dwarfs on my way to work with the large, long and heavy pruning shears over my shoulder. Today was the day I would conquer and control the prolific beast.

Before I could make a substantial dent in the dormant woody stalks, I was feeling the weight of the large pruning sheers searing in my shoulders, throbbing aches in my lower back, swelling knees and spaghetti-like arms rendering me all but useless. Foiled by my own weenie-ness! Grrrr. Taken down by flowers, how shameful. I was feeling so thankful for having a strong husband….wishing he was home. Twenty-two years of his physical job have left him with awesome upper body strength, biceps of steel and solid arms I have found comfort and security in over the years. My ultimate go-to place when I need a shoulder to feel secure and safe. He would teach those pesky Mexican Petunias who is boss in quick order!

“Oh, Honey……”

Dear Tooth Fairy

Being something of a sentimental sort I tend to save little things that touch my heart and use them in unordinary ways. For instance, in my Bible I have a note written on a page that came from a notepad shaped and decorated to look like a ladies sandal. The note was written by Daniel, one of the grandsons that lived with us for a while. It is in childish scrawl and says, “Dear toothfairy I’m missing my TOOTH! Thank you” It was left under his pillow one night in hopes the Tooth Fairy would leave him money for the tiny tooth he had misplaced.

To-date, that note melts my heart with same the warm fuzzies I felt sneaking out of his room after reading it by the dim night light when my tooth fairy duties were completed. I use the note as a bookmarker and it lives in the chapter of Proverbs. I read Proverbs each day and see the note often. It never fails to make me smile.

I have a rubber mouse that lives in my purse; in fact, he travels from one to another as my outfits change. I’m not sure how I came to have this rubber mouse in my purse in the first place but I’ve carried him around for at least fourteen years. One Sunday morning in church, grandbaby Hannah was getting restless and fussy. I pulled the mouse out and she was delighted by him. She played quietly the rest of the service in my lap. I can not tell you how many babies and toddlers have been entertained by that silly mouse over the years! Hannah is now nearly fourteen years old and he is still my traveling companion. I’ve pondered this mouse issue in hopes of understanding why I keep him. All I can tell you is that when I feel him in the dark recesses of a purse or bring him out for a wiggly child I see the smiling face of baby Hannah and I get too mushy for words; so the mouse stays.

These are but two examples of the little things of my life that take me to another place and time when an especially sweet memory was born. We like to think we have captured the important moments to retain for all time. They silently tiptoe away without notice more often than not. We try to establish traditions we hope our children will find poignant and cherish but our adult perspective and their child’s mind file events under different categories…if they are filed at all. We teach them of the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Santa and work to preserve their innocent beliefs as long as we can. I think it’s to preserve our youthful memories just as much as it is for the kids.

As a parent and now grandparent I relish all the precious times I had with the kids of my life. My little things may seem weird to you but they are treasures to my heart.

Can you imagine how many memories of His children God, Father to us all, must have to reflect on? Boggles the mind! He made provision to forgive and forget the bad and ugly sinful things we do, so His memory storehouse must truly runneth over with warm and fuzzy moments that bring His heart to that place of sweet remembrance.

Mouse or no mouse, life with Hannah was not easy yet it is the mouse that travels with me, not the heartache and disappointments. I can not even wrap my head around all God has set aside on my behalf so He can enjoy the warm, fuzzy times with me. I’m astounded by that!

My prayer for each of us today is that we strive to live and serve Him in such a way that we actively and purposely build sweet memories with our Father God. Those are memories that last!

Quote of the Day - Revisited

Morning, Friends.........this morning finds me plagued with a migraine headache which has rendered me unable to write; so I am sending a previous post. It holds up to the test of time. If you've not read it before, I hope you enjoy, if you have read it, I pray God will shed a new light of insight for you. See you tomorrow! Lynn

I collect quotes; the ones that strike a chord in me when I read them. I'm sharing one with you this morning. Here it is:

If things are not going well with you, begin your effort at correcting the situation by carefully examining the service you are rendering, and especially the spirit in which you are rendering it.

Roger Babson(1875-1967, American statistician, columnist)

I don't know if the author was a spiritual man or not but his philosophy certainly applies in a Christian walk, doesn't it?! It's difficult to look at ourselves as the source of our woes when we're so busy pointing at others, the enemy and/or situations.

As a parent, the kids give me all the examples I need (see how I'm talking about their examples & not mine, hehehe). One child or another would come telling some sad, sad tale about how a sibling did them wrong and the first thing I asked was, "What did you do to them?" It made them so mad when I did that! After a bit, we would eventually get around to discovering the action that inspired the assault in the first place. When this was brought into the light, they invariably came back with, " but I was just...(fill in the blank).." Somehow they have justified their own actions but want retribution whacked down on the other person for their heinous crime.

No one likes to own responsibility for the not so wonderful actions, behaviors, attitudes and issues of their life. This is especially true when we KNOW we are not acting as Christ would have us do, yet we spend a great deal of energy listing all the reasons we can't. "....but I was just ...." "...but they..." "...don't have time..." the list goes on and on. We've all been there and said those very things.

The Christian's life should reveal the truth of who Jesus Christ is. In so doing, it can provide a godly example and legacy for future generations. God wants us to invest our lives in ways that bring honor and glory to Him. Doing so, we will also be developing a rich spiritual inheritance to give to others.

Again I ask, what legacy will we leave behind?

“If things are not going well with you, begin your effort at correcting the situation by carefully examining the service you are rendering, and especially the spirit in which you are rendering it.”

We could leave a better legacy by examining our own hearts and actions honestly; making adjustments to realign with godly principles.

"No matter how pretty it may be, the view through rose colored glasses is neither honest nor accurate. Our actions need to stand up in the clear bright Light that is God."
Connie Lynn Bermea (1953- American Christian writer)

You may quote me on that!

As the Rooster Crowed

The morning is still dark and chilly out. Sitting by an open window, I shivered thinking I should close the window but before I could rise to do so the mournful crowing of a neighborhood rooster pierced the morning quiet. My mind took a mental journey to another cold dark morning with dawn not yet making an appearance and being ushered in by the crow of a rooster. For a moment I could smell the smoke of a camp fire, hear the muffled shuffling feet as they stomped in an effort to get warmth all the way to the toes. My heart seemed to race though I knew not why. People talking almost in a whisper as they tend do in the dark. A heavy angst weighed me down; my heart so full of fear and confusion I thought it might explode. For that split second in time I thought this must be as if I was standing beside Peter as the rooster cried out. I do not know if I could bear what he must have felt when the knowledge of his betrayal first sunk into his mind, then his heart. It must have felt as if the weight of consuming shame crushed the very life from him. Was inescapable remorse and self-disgust wringing his gut and heart as he counts through the rooster crowing once, twice and the final heart piercing third crow? The world around him stood still as he is aware of nothing else, save the rooster.

Why, Lord, are you showing me this?

My neighbor rooster not stopping at three continued his morning song; the moment of intense spiritual time travel ended. The question plagues me as I write it down before the sights, sounds and smells leave me. It felt so real, in the actual moment yet I know in reality it lasted no longer than a split second. The quiet voices and sounds of a waking community as the backdrop of the intense scene with Peter seemed encompassing and alive to me. Still I ask, Why, Lord, did you show me that?

Was it to remind me that on any given day in a thousand different ways we are capable of betraying Jesus with our actions, words or self-serving hearts? That we Christians today are dangerously close to our own rooster experience when with friends we talk about how un-Christ-like the world is yet stand around the proverbial camp fire doing nothing to change it? Is our comfort zone around that fire with friends the extent of our action to bring about change for Jesus? Does our silence and lack of effort to publicly and actively advocate for Christ any different that Peter’s denial?

If we are to stand before our God on judgment day to account for all we have done or not done and if the weight of my spirit in that glimpse back at that historically significant moment in time Jesus walked the earth was any indication, oh People, we do not want the rooster crowing in the background! Let it be our battle cry rather than announcing our betrayals.

Peter went on to be a mighty force in the early Christian church. Perhaps it took his rooster experience to humble his heart to the state of brokenness necessary for Jesus to rebuild it for His service. I do not know why I had this weighty and puzzling experience this morning but I know it was for God’s purposes. I may never know the answer while I’m still on this side of heaven but it got my attention in a profound way. Roosters crow to usher in the new morning and wake the sleeping world…..ponder that a while. Perhaps the rooster played a bigger part in the story than we see at first glance.

Prayer

You know how every now and then we get one of those ‘holy bops on the head’? We could get all theological and call it conviction but you know when a holy bop comes your way. I was bopped this morning. A little background…….

We have one of those large cool prints in a great frame of the old man sitting at his table with a Bible, loaf of bread and bowl of soup. The man has his head bowed and hands folded in prayer. You’ve seen the one I’m talking about. I love it. It was a gift from a friend and though I have little wall space for it to occupy, it sits in a place of prominence atop the china cabinet. It is a study of humble and prayerful simplicity.

Here comes the topic of my ‘holy bop’……

Have we gotten away from the real way to pray? Is it really a prayer if you are busy putting your napkin in your lap as you rush through the requisite thanks at the speed of light? If your mouth is full as you utter, “thanks, Lord” before moving on to the next bite can we take solace in knowing the Lord really accepts that as a prayer? Is it really a prayer if we are just getting it out of the way so we feel better about it because we are suppose to pray? Laying it on the table, so to speak, prayer served up cold like fast food can hardly be worthy of being called PRAYER. Can it?

We have become a lazy people that think so highly of ourselves and our growling bellies that we have gotten to a place where we are not only content with but consistently spitting out a line or two of complacent words (usually the same ones every time) as quickly (and insincerely) as we can so we can move on to the good stuff…..food.

Really, People, can we call this prayer? Bop, BOP, BOP………..

I believe that God would rather us not waste our breath or His time with such foolishness. It is a mockery of prayer….a mockery of thankfulness…….can a mockery of God be far behind?

Repeating a child’s prayer is great when we are children but it is meant to be a teaching tool to form good habits, not a lifelong prayer discipline. If we approach the foot of the throne in anything less than humble thankfulness with a sincere heart we are missing the point. The fast-food-like prayer offends my sensibilities (though I have been guilty of doing it) so I can only imagine that the Lord finds it lacking. Bop, BOP, BOP…..

Maybe this only applies to me……..maybe none of you have ever uttered the speedy short prayer……..maybe we to get real and honest with ourselves so we can be honest with God. Thought I’d share the picture as well as the questions………