Thursday, December 20, 2018

WHAT I WANT MOST...

"You always do what you want most to do."

At least that's what my husband tells me.

I started the day with high ambitions. And, I have checked several things off my to-do list: wrote an article; cleaned at Catherine's; ironed my work uniforms; answered a few emails...

But there is so much more that I wanted to do that I simply did not do!

Apparently, more than washing windows, submitting a query, or fighting the pre-Christmas crowds in search of a few last-minute gifts, what I REALLY wanted to do today was...

Eat.
Sleep.
Work a jigsaw puzzle.
Drink hot beverages.
Visit with my kids.

So, yeah - what Steve said.

Sometimes I want to do the things I need to do. Yesterday, for example, I genuinely wanted to mop the floors and clean the bathrooms. (Actually, I wanted clean floors and bathrooms, and doing the work of mopping and scrubbing was the only way to achieve that.)

But what if my need-to list and my want-to list don't match up? In this season of life - I am loving the 50s - more and more, I find myself skipping the I-need-to list in favor of the I-want-to list.

Giving want-to precedence over need-to comes easily for some folks. Not for me, not for someone with an overwhelming compulsion to try to meet the perceived expectations of others. For me, the transition from need-to to want-to has been a slow, sometimes difficult process.

Thankfully, it seems to be getting easier with practice.

* * *
Quote of the day, an excerpt from a meme shared by a friend: "...life is way too short to leave the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket."



Sunday, December 9, 2018

LEARNING TO CHILL

I tend to stay so busy when I am at home - start a load of laundry, cook the next meal, wash dishes, check off another chore, do the next thing, and then the next, and then the next - that I often feel disconnected from other people in the house. It is very difficult for me to STOP. To make matters worse, when I get on the go-go-go treadmill, and others don't, I begin to resent the fact that I am always working while they get to rest.

I tell myself - and then begin to believe - two lies:
1. I have to do all of this work myself.
2. Others do not appreciate what I do. (If they did, they wouldn't be so chill, right?!)

Now, I know better...I really do. Nobody in my family insists that I go-go-go. And nobody is going to get upset if I stop.

I create this stress myself, and then I get irritated with the others because I'm so stressed - that makes no sense, people!

So this weekend, I did a little exercise: instead of getting on the go-go treadmill, and then getting irritated with those who chose not to get on the go-go treadmill with me, I decided to ignore my natural tendencies and follow the example of those more chill than myself.

Instead of jumping up right after dinner and tackling the dishes in the sink, I followed everyone else to the living area.

Instead of doing laundry, sweeping, or cleaning the bathroom while others were working a crossword or scrolling through Pinterest, I read a book.

When the rest of the family picked up their cell phones, I pulled out my laptop.

I do not have words to describe how difficult and uncomfortable this has been for me.

Do I feel all chill and relaxed after an entire weekend of chilling and relaxing? NO. I feel like I'm developing an ulcer. This not-working thing is wearing me out!

I need some encouragement, folks. Learning to chill - does it get easier with practice?

Thursday, December 6, 2018

GOODBYE SHADOWS AND GLORY SUNSHINE

Thanksgiving is behind us, and now we are hurtling headlong toward Christmas.

I don’t know about you, but I had a full house Thanksgiving weekend. Full, as in wall-to-wall air mattresses and pallets on the floor at bedtime. Full, as in take-a-number for a shower in the morning. Full as in “Is this the third pot of coffee we’ve brewed this afternoon, or the fourth?”

I love a house filled with family and friends. I love crowding elbow-to-elbow around the table. I love long conversations over coffee. I love the kitchen weave of many cooks preparing a meal together.

I had a full house for Thanksgiving, and it was awesome.

But then, everybody left.

As Thanksgiving weekend drew to a close, I stood on the front porch and waved goodbye as the last set of red taillights headed down the driveway.

Now, the beds have been remade with fresh linens. The air mattresses are deflated and put away. Floors are vacuumed and swept; mountains of towels, washed and folded; ginormous baking pans, stored until needed for the next family gathering.

The great big chaotic fullness of a family holiday has been replaced by a great big empty quiet. I already miss the conversations on the porch swing, the long walks on the farm, the laughter over dinner, the snuggles on the couch with the grandkids.

I don’t know about you, but for me, the shift from noisy to quiet, from full to empty is a little traumatic.

Perhaps it’s the physical fatigue: a house full of company is a lot of work! Perhaps, like a Sunday-evening child haunted by the thought of Monday-morning school, I am reluctant to return to life-as-usual. Perhaps the noise and chaos distracted me for a season from unpleasant realities in my day-to-day, and now, those realities once again clamor for my attention.

Whatever the reason, post-holiday emptiness and quiet settle over my heart like a shadow, like tears at the end of a beautiful love story.

Don’t you wish the fellowship and feasting could go on and on forever?

This droop in spirits as I transition from a packed-full house to lonely ol’ me at the computer is a gift, though, because it makes me mindful of Glory. It stirs in a me a longing for that day when family and friends will gather together to celebrate…and never have to say Goodbye again.

This goodbye shadow over my heart reminds me that I was created - indeed, all of us were created - for unbroken fellowship with our Creator.

C. S. Lewis, in They Asked for a Paper, put it this way: “A man’s physical hunger does not prove that man will get any bread…But surely a man’s hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating…

“In the same way, though I do not believe…that my desire for Paradise proves that I shall enjoy it, I think it a pretty good indication that such a thing exists and that some men will.”

The goodbye shadow that comes after time spent with people I love makes me long all the more for that great day when there will be no more goodbyes. So, I’ll take today’s shadow: it points me to the sunshine.

(This is taken from one of my first "Porch Swing Perspective" articles, written just over a year ago. Has it really already been a year? Time flies!)

Friday, November 30, 2018

UN-LEARNING "NO"

When the answer has been "No" for longer than you can remember, you forget that there is such a thing as "Yes"...and then you stop asking, stop trying, stop wondering things like "What if...? and "Could I maybe...?"

I was challenged by a friend several weeks ago to imagine possibilities, rather than to think reflexively in terms of impossibilities. Thank you, Beth. I HAVE imagined possibilities. And, I am beginning to dare to believe that there is such a thing as "Yes."

Before, when I lived in the Land of No, obstacles looked like impregnable walls. They kept me inside a box of defeat and passivity. I knew I couldn't get over the wall, so why even try?

That way of thinking has been difficult to un-learn.

Since Beth challenged me to "imagine possibilities," I have encountered obstacles - walls - and those obstacles almost shut me down.

Almost.

But every single time that I was tempted to give up and succumb to my old attitude of "What's the point in even trying?," God sent someone to give me a boost, someone to help me over the wall. (God is so good!)

And I have discovered: my "wall climbing" muscles are getting stronger. Obstacles don't shut me down like they used to.

Can I do this?

Why, YES, I think that maybe, just maybe, I can!

Sunday, November 25, 2018

NEED HELP? (Hint: The answer is YES.)

One reason I love my job:

People I meet in the Emergency Department and people who have been admitted to the hospital do not pretend that they are perfectly fine and don't need any help. On the contrary, they come to the hospital precisely because they know they are NOT fine and they DO need help. And, as a rule, they are truly grateful for the help hospital staff provide.

People outside of the hospital? That's another story.

Here's the irony. We are ALL broken, wounded, diseased, scarred, bleeding out our ears, desperately in need of help. ALL of us. And yet, so many people deny they have any problem at all.

Like the chronically drunk uncle who replies, when confronted by family about his excessive drinking: "I don't have an alcohol problem. You are the ones with a problem. You are the ones who need help."

Or the abusive husband: "I don't have a problem. She's the problem. She's the one who needs counseling."

Or the angry teenager: "I don't have an anger problem. It's everyone else - they're the ones with the problem. If they understood me better, they wouldn't make me so angry!"

Here's another irony: people who know they are broken, who know they need help - like the people I meet every day at work - they gratefully receive help, and very often, they get better. They heal; they get stronger; they experience renewed health and vigor.

But those who deny that they need help - like so many of the I-don't-have-a-problem, I'm-fine people I encounter outside the hospital - they refuse help, and they get sicker, weaker, more broken. Often, sadly, they spread brokenness and disease to the people closest to them.

What about you? Are you broken, sick, scarred, bleeding?

If your answer is - "I'm fine. Really. But now, so-and-so, SHE has a problem..." - well, maybe you should get a second opinion. I think maybe you haven't accurately diagnosed your symptoms.

And if your answer is - "Yes. Yes, I am broken. I need help..." - well, I know a really Great Physician.

I see Him at work, every day.

Thursday, November 15, 2018

SUCH BEAUTY


So much white. So much softness. So much loveliness.

Eyes open wider.

Ears listen brighter.

Lungs inhale deeper.

Cheeks glow redder.

Laughter freer.

Steps...slower. I want to savor this.

Sunday, November 11, 2018

SUCH TENDER LOVE!

On the drive to church this morning, I was praying for my children and for the children of several friends of mine. My greatest desire for these young people is for God to capture their hearts.

For my children to be made spiritually alive...only God can do that. My children can't do that for themselves. I can't do it for them. God, only God, gives life. And so I pray to God, day after day, week after week, pleading with him to do just that.

But sometimes, I grow discouraged. Like the weary prophet, I find myself praying, "Oh, Lord, how long?!" This morning, my heart felt so heavy.

* * *
Sunday school this morning, our lesson topic: GRACE. Salvation is a gift from God. He plans, purposes, initiates, and accomplishes my salvation. It is God's work, from beginning to end, and not my own (nor my kids').

And then worship...

Our Call to Worship this Sunday morning: "For I will pour out water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour my Spirit on your offspring; and my blessing on your descendants." - Isaiah 44:3

And then our Responsive Reading, which included this passage: "And your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams; even on my male servants and female servants in those days I will pour out my Spirit..." - from the prophet Joel

* * *
It's like God knows the cares of my heart, and He speaks directly to them. Oh, how tender and compassionate God's love toward this frail woman!

God is faithful, and He is so very good.

In the face of this kind of love, I am undone. Care gives way to worship and praise.

Saturday, November 10, 2018

WEIRD TIMES

According to my email junk box, the most pressing concerns occupying the thoughts of internet users today are:

  • erectile dysfunction
  • hair loss
  • how to hook up with hot, easy women
  • toenail fungus
  • how to win the next mega lottery (so I can pay to get my 20-something body, libido and stamina back and then set up a meeting with an international date at some exotic location)
In fact, these are such BIG concerns that I receive several messages EVERY SINGLE DAY in my email junk box.

(URGENT! Toe Nail Fungus Cure Discovered! Seriously, people? Toe nail fungus...urgent?! A ruptured artery, now THAT'S urgent. Toe nail fungus, I don't think so.)

My email junk box is a sad commentary on the state of the American male psyche. And I write "male psyche" because these emails are clearly targeted at men.

But that's not my point.

My point is: how does this junk mail get targeted to MY email account? And WHY?


I am female, and lack the necessary hardware to suffer from ED. I have a thick head of hair. Objectification of women makes me want to puke. My toenails are healthy. I don't play the lottery.

I have never, ever, ever done any kind of internet search on any of these topics. I have never even opened one of said emails, although I'd sure love to send a reply that blew up the original sender's mainframe.

We live in weird times, people. Weird times.

* * *
Now that I'm thinking about it, you guys out there, are your email junk boxes inundated with URGENT! messages about pressing concerns like how to get your children to put their dirty clothes in the laundry basket instead of on the floor, how to help the guys in your family actually hit the toilet when they pee (or clean up after themselves when they don't), and home remedies for hot flashes and memory loss? Just curious. It occurred to me: maybe I'm on the wrong mailing lists.

Friday, November 2, 2018

IT'S IN OUR BLOOD

Something I have learned in my brief time at the lab: our blood is an inescapable, irrefutable, living testimony to our brokenness.

We are all sinners living in a sinful world. Anyone who would assert otherwise has not worked with blood or is terribly self-deceived.

Partied too hard last weekend? It's in the blood.
Been sleeping around? It's in the blood.
Overindulging in food? It's in the blood.
Not eating enough? It's in the blood.
Harboring bitterness? It's in the blood.
Chronically fearful and anxious? It's in the blood.

Sometimes, the brokenness of our parents and grandparents even shows up in our blood, passed down like a family heirloom. How it grieves me to realize that my own brokenness has most likely been passed on to the people I love most!

Our blood is with us our whole lives -from before we are born until we die - testifying against us, even as it sustains life. Even if our lives look pretty and like we have everything together, even if we look morally and socially competent, even if we truly believe we are "enough" - our blood screams that we are fallen, guilty, broken, lacking.

Our blood, so essential and so dear to us, testifies against us. Like Lady Macbeth, wringing our hands, we cry: "Out, damn'd spot!" But to no avail.

* * *

All those bloody passages in the Old Testament...the human carnage, the animal sacrifices, the sprinkling and pouring of blood ALL OVER EVERYTHING...these passages have long been difficult for me.

And the cross...SO MUCH BLOOD.

Grieved by the bloodshed, I have wondered, "Why, God? Why so much blood?! Couldn't there have been a less traumatic way to save your people?"

But since I began working in the lab, I see blood - and all the bloody Scripture - in a completely different light.

Since the Fall, the blood of every single person has testified: Guilty!

Every single person but one.

One man lived and walked on this earth with perfectly clean, healthy, righteous, holy blood. ONE man.

That one man, knowing that one day I would stand before a holy, righteous, perfect God, to whom I must give an account...that one man understood that no matter how good I looked on the outside, no matter how good I talked game, no matter what glowing testimony others gave in my defense, my blood would give irrefutable evidence of my unholiness, and I would be condemned.

That one man poured out his perfect blood, opened his veins and said to me, "I will take your blood. Here, you take mine."

And that blood - his blood - testifies on my behalf, now and forever:

Redeemed. Righteous. Beloved.

Why so much blood? Because sin is in our blood, and only sinless blood can save us.

I get that now, with every needle stick and every tube I draw. I get that now in a way I never did before.

* * *

"...you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ..." 1 Peter 1:18-19

Friday, October 26, 2018

MOM LIFE, NEW SEASON

I have been a mom for over 30 years. Wow!

My kids are all grown up. They are kind, wonderful, beautiful people. They really are the coolest, most interesting people I know.

But I don't get to spend as much time with my kids as I once did. We no longer share living space 24/7. More and more, I am just Camille...no kids in tow.

Things I am learning, things I am un-learning in this strange new season of life:

I do not have to eat garbage. Used to, I'd make a meal off half-eaten peanut butter sandwiches, half-eaten containers of yogurt, the most burned grilled cheese (because, to tell the truth, I burned them all!), and the leftovers from last week that, obviously, no one else wanted to eat.

Where did I get the idea that "Mom" = "garbage disposal"? Probably sprouted from some distortion of the importance of not wasting food (because food costs money). Reduce-Reuse-Recycle is a great strategy for reducing household waste, but it does not mean Mom has to eat what would otherwise go into the trash can.

It is okay for me to eat things I enjoy; it's okay for other people at my table to eat these things, too, even if these foods are not their personal favorites. It is reasonable, as a wife and mother, to want to cook food my family enjoys. But over the years, I let "Umm, it's okay, I guess, but it's not my favorite" become a death-sentence for some of my favorite recipes.

How long has it been since I made linguine with clam sauce? Picadillo with cornbread? Fried chicken livers? (Yes, I am a fan of fried chicken livers.)

I am learning that it is okay to prepare foods I personally enjoy, even if others do not, and it is reasonable to expect others at the table to receive these foods graciously.

How clean my house is...is only as big a deal to me as I make it. I really do prefer a clean, tidy space to live in. But sometimes, other things in life are more important to me than housework, and those things get time priority. When the floors get so nasty that I hate to walk on them, then I will knock something off the calendar so I can sweep and mop.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: if the clutter and dirt don't bother me, they are not a problem; if they do, I can do something about it. I don't "keep house" for other people. This is my home, not theirs. Visitors are always welcome, but they are visitors...not home inspectors. Welcome to the mess!

How clean my house is...is actually not that big of a deal to other people. And if it is, they are more than welcome to pick up a dust cloth or broom and get to work. Won't hurt my feelings at all!

I am under no obligation to conform to the fantastic expectations other people have of me. Wife, homeschool mom, homemaker, writer...people conjure up cozy, romantic, completely out-of-touch-with-reality ideas of what my life looks like, then I get this crazy notion that it would be wrong for me to disappoint them.

Yes, I love home-baked bread and vegetables fresh from the garden; but I also love Cheetos and Diet Coke. I love Austen, Tolkien, and Rowling...and The Princess Bride, Napoleon Dynamite, and Nacho Libre. I lament the immodesty of our culture; I wear jeggings and yoga pants. I am transported by hymns and praise songs; I dance to Bruno Mars and Meghan Trainor.

Go figure.

I am learning to be comfortable with the idea that people can like me for who I really am, or they can not like me. At any rate, I am no longer preoccupied with people liking me for someone I am not.

I do not have to conform to my own unrealistic expectations, either. Somewhere over the years, I got the crazy notion that, if I wanted to be a good wife and mother, I should not get angry, feel pain deeply, express strong opinions or preferences, pursue personal goals, care for my own emotional needs, etc. I thought these things were expressions of selfishness. Instead, I should always be strong, be patient, sacrifice, hold it all together, persevere, be grateful, be content...even if I really wasn't.

The very worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves...and then believe.

In this new season, instead of thinking in terms of "should" and "ought" and crazy ideals, I am more prone to think: "Where am/who am I right now? How do I want to grow?"

About clothes...

I do not shop for clothes for myself. Shopping involves two things I dislike: spending money (always a no-no) - and - trying on clothes and looking at myself in a mirror. I HATE clothes shopping. Instead of shopping, I wear clothes that come out of black bags, clothes passed on by an older lady at church or by a friend of a friend of a neighbor.

Let me say right here: I am so grateful for black bags! Without them, I'd have gone naked the past couple of decades, and trust me, NOBODY would have wanted that.

With the recent onset of cooler weather, I realized I needed some warmer clothes. Normally at this point, I would have started hoping for a black bag to show up on my front porch. But instead, I asked the youngest, who possesses ninja shopping skills, to meet me after school to go shopping. For me.

And I bought clothes.

That I picked out.

For myself.

And I like them.

Shopping wasn't painful at all, not even writing the check.

So, yeah, that's something new, too. 😜

Wednesday, October 24, 2018

CHERISHING THE ORDINARY

It's been a long day. For me: work, grocery shopping, laundry, dinner. For my youngest: school, work, and now homework.

I love a quiet evening at home, just me and this chicken. Upstairs in the office (aka "the boys' room"), she is working on a speech for Friday's Public Speaking class, while I catch up on emails, book-keeping, and writing assignments. She's drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows (more marshmallows than chocolate, BTW - nom, nom, nom); for me, wine.

As we sit across the table from each other in the glow of our respective laptops, work is interrupted frequently by short bursts of conversation and laughter.

"What do you think about...?"

"Hey, listen to this..."

This moment is precious not because it is extraordinary, but because it is ordinary...and it will soon be gone.


Wednesday, October 10, 2018

UNDONE

Because He's still here and still listening...
(and because I haven't had time or brain energy to do much writing lately!)

UNDONE
(originally posted June 3, 2015)

Two thirty a.m. and I'm lying awake (something related to menopause, I think), looking out the window at the night sky and the fireflies blinking on and off in the hay field. The house is quiet and the bed is oh-so-comfortable. This is one of my very favorite times to pray...

I am grateful that God is awake and listening at 2:30 in the morning. I am touched that He makes a quiet, dark, beautiful place to meet with me. I am astounded that the same God who holds the enormous, flaming, far-away stars in the night sky condescends to slip into a messy bedroom in a rural farmhouse for an hour of intimate conversation.

I pray for my kids, and my grandkids. For my church and my church family (King and Virginia, you are my special people today!) and for folks on the other side of the sea. For things heavy on my heart and my mind. Eventually, I drift off to sleep again, encouraged and strengthened with the confidence that God is near, and that He is sovereign and good and He loves me very much.

A few hours later, I am sitting down at the kitchen counter with my first cup of coffee. No one else is up and stirring about yet, and the house is still and quiet. Let's see, where was I...flip, flip, flip...2 Chronicles. NOT my favorite book of the Bible, and yet, reading through a tedious list of names I can't begin to pronounce, I am once again reminded of God's faithfulness to his faithless children. Reminded of God's big, scary, dangerous, life-altering, never-tiring, ever-pursuing love. And I pray for my kids, and my grandkids...

Much later in the day, I am driving to town for a meeting, alone in a funky-smelling green mini-van that badly needs to be vacuumed, soaking up the warm sunshine that beams through the windshield. My thoughts turn to a young man - someone dear to me - who seemingly has no desire to know God, no interest in Jesus's great love for broken, sinful people like us, and I am saddened. "Father..." I need someone to talk to, someone to share this burden.

And then it occurs to me...

Lying in bed at two-dark-thirty in the morning, at the kitchen counter with a steaming cup of coffee, and now, driving down the four-lane toward Union City, this has all been one long on-going conversation. Interrupted by sleep and exercise class and cooking breakfast for the gang at home...interrupted, but never broken.

"God, you are still here! You are still listening!" We were picking up right where we had left off, before the pause to review Helen's math lesson and the conversation with Tom about what he is working on on the Ranchero, and my rush to get out the door on time.

Nobody on Earth meets me like that. Nobody on Earth listens like that. Nobody on Earth loves me like that.

Is it any wonder that I adore Him?

Friday, October 5, 2018

VERY WELL CONTENT

Do you ever feel like God is trying to tell you something?

Wednesday evening, I finished reading Rosaria Butterfield's book The Gospel Comes with a House Key: Practicing Radically Ordinary Hospitality in Our Post-Christian World. HIGHLY recommend, not because we should all be and live just like the Butterfields, but because Rosaria challenges readers to think outside our comfort zones. We all need that kind of challenge occasionally, to expose our blind spots and shake us from our complacency.

On my Author Facebook page, I shared this quote from Rosaria's book:

"Grace does not make the hard thing go away; grace illumines the hard thing with eternal meaning and purpose. Grace gives you company in your affliction, in Christ himself and in the family of God."

(Amen, and amen! After a difficult week, my body and heart weary, I wonder again how on earth people negotiate the grit of this life without Jesus. I cannot imagine. And can I say right here HOW MUCH I LOVE MY SISTERS AND BROTHERS IN CHRIST, those faithful friends who pray for me and with me when I am afflicted and distressed, and how thankful I am for a sweet Christian counselor who shares my burdens every week?! Thank you, Jesus, that you do not save us to do this life alone. Thank you that you saved us into a family of faith!)

So, as I was saying, Wednesday, I finished Rosaria's excellent book.

Yesterday, Thursday, I sat on the front porch swing and prayed for inspiration for next week's article for the newspaper. Prayed and swayed, listened to the birds, watched the grandkids playing in the yard, sipped my tea, prayed and swayed.

God brought this verse to mind: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me," Philippians 4:13.

I thought about the week just past, its challenges, frustrations, and hurts. And I thought about how often I've tried to use Phil. 4:13 as a mantra against hardship, failure, heartbreak, and defeat. As if emphatically praying "I can do all things" guarantees me success, victory, peace, joy.

I thought about Paul, writing those great words of encouragement even as he was under house arrest, facing a trial and, if convicted, death. "I can do all things." Paul wasn't saying God would save him from persecution and an unjust death. He was saying, "With Christ, whether I live or die, I am well content."

My weekly newspaper column is not a religious column. It is a general interest column. But thinking about my own struggles this past week - and the struggle to rest well in Jesus in the midst of them - and thinking about the daunting, real-life struggles faced by so many of my readers, I wrote about Philippians 4:13, about being content in Jesus, even when life hurts.

I saved my first draft of the article, unsure if I would submit it for next week's column. Really, God? Is this what you want me to write?

And then this morning, over on her Author Facebook page, Emily Akin shared this blog post by Lynn Dove: Most Misinterpreted Scripture Verses - Philippians 4:13. Given that I had just written an article about the same passage the day before, I clicked on the link. I was curious to read Lynn's perspective on this often misused verse.

Do you ever feel like God is trying to tell you something?

Rosaria Butterfield's book -
An article composed on a porch swing -
A blog post shared by a friend -

Sometimes, when I am particularly weary and sore, I am tempted to wonder if God really loves me. But when He speaks with such precision into the details of my life - and does so over and over again - I cannot long entertain such foolish thoughts.

Yes, He loves me.

And with that, I am very well content.

* * *

"...I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned to secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me." Philippians 4:11b-13

Wednesday, October 3, 2018

HOW BIG IS THIS SALVATION?

"Son," he said, "ye cannot in your present state understand eternity...That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, 'No future bliss can make up for it,' not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even the agony in to a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say, 'Let me have but this and I'll take the consequences,' little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin.

"Both processes begin even before death. The good man's past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven; the bad man's past already conforms to his badness and is filled only with dreariness.

"And that is why...the Blessed will say, 'We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven,' and the Lost, 'We were always in Hell.' And both will speak truly." - C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

* * * 

If I believe that Jesus redeems me and saves me for the eternity which yawns on the other side of this life - and He does - that is a glorious promise and a great assurance.

But I need more.

If I believe that Jesus redeems me and saves me today, when I have today injured another image-bearer, fallen yet again into that old sin, doubted the great promise that God truly forgives and truly loves the repentant sinner - and He does - that gives me comfort and healing and hope. Even as I fall broken at the foot of the cross for the umpteenth time, it gives me strength to stand and face a new day with the confidence that "Yes, Lord, I am yours, beloved and secure. Help me today to think and speak and live as befits a daughter of the King."

But I need more.

What about yesterday? What about last month? last year?

What about the decades of sin, my own and those committed against me? What about the hurt and the hard layers of scar tissue, running deep in my soul? What about sin-twisted coping mechanisms, learned over a lifetime, so well practiced now that they are reflex and I have little, if any, conscious awareness of them?

When I look back, I am deeply grieved by my own brokenness and by how my brokenness has shattered others.

What about the PAST, Lord: Is it too late to save what has already been? The pages are turned; the story is told - how can what has already been written be saved and sanctified for your glory and for my good and the good of the people I love?

Does the Gospel have power to redeem the past?

My story - The Story of Camille - began 54 years ago in a small hospital in rural Northwest Tennessee. Actually it began before that, with a young country lawyer and a pretty preacher's daughter. No...go back further, to that preacher and the strong-willed, strong-boned woman he married, and hundreds of miles away, to the hog farmer and his schoolteacher wife.

No, further still...

To German and Scots-Irish immigrants who, desperate for religious freedom and a future, braved an unknown continent on the far side of the sea...

Further...

Go WAY back, as far back as, well, as forever...

Ephesians 1:4 tells me that God was writing My Story "before the foundation of the world."

Long before my story became My Story some 54 years ago, as far back as the dawn of time and then further, it was God's Story, the one He began writing before my first ancestor walked this earth. That means...

Before the first page of My Story was written, there was the mercy of God, wrapped up in the Gospel, the One Great Story, of which My Story is simply a re-telling.

All of my past - the good and the bad, the bright and the broken, the joyful and that which causes me deep, deep sorrow - God has been writing all of it all along, and through ALL of it, He has been weaving the beautiful, unifying, redeeming theme of his glorious Gospel.

So, back to my question: Can the Gospel redeem and sanctify my past?

YES.

Because God's Story, the Gospel, is older than My Story, and its life-giving blood pulses through ALL of My Story, past-present-future, beginning to end.

I needed to take a few minutes to remember that today.

* * *

I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you. - Jeremiah 31:3

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

STRESS RELIEF


I love water.

I love the sound of water - waves against the beach, raindrops on the roof, children splashing in puddles, the gurgle of water as it filters over black coffee grounds in the morning.

I love the feel of water - cold creek water on hiking-sore feet, the gentle massage of the rising and falling swells beyond the surf zone at the shore, the soothing comfort of a hot shower or bath after a long day of work.

I love the smell of water - the sweet freshness of rain on the hay field, the sharp tang of rain on asphalt, the chlorine bite of a swimming pool, the savory saltiness of ocean air, the pungent funk of edgewater at the pond back on Granddaddy's farm.

I have often said that if I had a spirit animal, mine would be a manatee. I have no idea what work I will be assigned in heaven or in the new earth, but I hope my job will involve water. Maybe God will let me be a manatee shepherdess. Or a mermaid.

Life has been stressful lately. The challenge of learning new job skills and the emotional exertion required to work daily with sick and hurting people. My normal at-home routine - pfft! - all akimbo. What routine?! The weight of long-standing relationship struggles, with no resolution in sight.

How do I de-stress?
  • I de-stress by writing. Not much time for writing lately.
  • Snatches of quiet and solitude help me process stress, too - prayer, long walks on the farm, meditative yoga. But there's been no quiet and solitude on my calendar lately, either!
  • And water. Water is a great stress reliever for me: tumbling over rocks in the creek, lapping gently at pond's edge, crashing rhythmically against a ribbon of golden sand. Ah, to go back to the beach!


My middle daughter and I were busy in the kitchen this morning, trying to juggle the chaos and noise of small children, breakfasts and baking, bumped noggins and crossed wills, plinking piano and sauce-pot drums.

As we negotiated this cacophony of life, the sky broke open in a deluge, sang a couple verses of one of its favorite songs, "Remember That Man Noah?"

Martha raised the kitchen windows and propped open the front door. The two of us stood in the doorway for several minutes, soaking up the sound and the sweetness of the torrential rain.

And although the sky was very dark indeed, my heart and soul felt lighter.

* * *

What about you? What are some of your favorite stress relievers? I'd love to hear your thoughts!


Friday, September 21, 2018

OTHERWORLDLY LOVE

"For one will scarcely die for a righteous person - though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die - but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:7-8

Here is an amazing thing: God did not wait for us to clean up our act before He chose to love us; He pursued us not because we ran toward him, but because we ran away from him.

Here is another amazing thing: God does not stop loving us and pursuing us when we wipe out in epic ways. When we try to slink away to shadowy places, into dark caves of sin, shame, and guilt, He STILL loves us - and He comes after us.

God does not love his people because we are good; He loves us because He is good.

He does not love us because we always do life well; He alone is holy, sinless, perfect, righteous, altogether lovely.

He does not love us because we have great faith, or because our faith never falters; only God is always faithful.

He does not say, "Your sin is no big deal." Neither does He say, "Your sin is so big, I can't deal with it." Rather, He says, "Your sin IS a really big deal; that's why I died for it. I love you enough to address your sin; now, we're going to work through this together."

He does not say, "Your little talent/gift has no value." He says, "This gift is from me. Do not despise it. Invest it for my kingdom."

He does not shame us or treat us like second-class citizens; He calls us his beloved.

God loves his children in an otherworldly way that is unlike any other relationship we will ever experience.

And yet...

He calls us to love just like that...like He loves.

How on earth is that even possible?

To love others like God loves us is possible only to the extent that we understand, believe, and act on what we have experienced ourselves:

We are called to love other people not because they are good, but because we know - we really know - that God is good.

We are called to love other people not because they do life well, but because we know - we personally know, really and truly - the fountainhead of all life.

We are called to love other people not because they share and affirm our own faith experience or because their faith never falters, but because we have seen and experienced the faithfulness of God.

Behold, what manner of love the Father has given unto us...that through us, He might pour out his pursuing, bloody-messy, redeeming, faithful, abundant love into the lives of those around us.

"In this is love, not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another." 1 John 4: 10-11

Thursday, September 6, 2018

A LITTLE BIT OF HEAVEN

Old picture, but...

The Japan contingent is home for a visit! And this evening, while Daddy put the little girls to bed, the sisters sat down at the piano together and played and sang.

It's been going on for about an hour now. One of the sweetest sounds I know.

I think this is a little hint of what heaven will be like.

Monday, September 3, 2018

OBSERVATIONS ONE MONTH INTO THE NEW JOB

Observations one month into the new job:

* I miss mornings on the porch swing. Evenings on the porch swing are a pretty sweet consolation, though.

* Ladies, we really cannot do it all. Whoever tells us we can is lying.

When I stayed home, my days were full. I rarely felt like I had enough hours in the day to do the things that needed to be done. Running a home was/is a full-time job.

Now that I work outside the home several hours each weekday, running a home is STILL a full-time job. So, what does that mean? It means there's an awful lot going undone on the home front. I don't like the situation, but the alternative is for me to work all day at the lab, then come home and work all night at home. I can do one or the other and still make time to sleep, eat, shower, etc., but I can't do both.

* When I stayed home full-time, a house fairy apparently did the laundry, mopped the floors, cleaned the bathrooms, swept the cobwebs off the ceiling, bought the groceries and cooked the meals. This house fairy stopped doing magic the day I clocked in at the lab. I keep hoping she/he will show back up, but so far, that hasn't happened.

* When I stayed home full-time, home was my workplace, but it was also my refuge. Home feels less like a refuge now because all the undone chores clamor for my attention. "Let it go! Let it go!" may be a great coping strategy for a Disney ice princess with magical powers, but it has not proven to be an effective way to create a pleasant home environment or foster peace of mind for me personally.

* There are so many beautiful people in the world. My co-workers at the lab are all very different from me, but they are delightful people to work with. I appreciate their expertise, patience and humor, and I am thankful for and enjoy each one of them. These awesome people make my job fun.

Now, the sun has set and the mosquitoes are biting. Time to head inside and wind down for the night - 4:50 tomorrow morning will be here before I know it. Rest well, friends!

Sunday, August 26, 2018

BACK TO THE BASICS

"There is absolutely no shortcut to holiness that bypasses or gives little priority to a consistent intake of the Bible." - Jerry Bridges, The Pursuit of Holiness

God is holy. If we want to grow in holiness, we can only do so by growing in our knowledge of and in our relationship to our holy God.

While a general, vague knowledge of God is available to us through observation of the created world, God reveals himself to us explicitly through his written Word. Time spent in God's Word is time spent in God's presence. If we desire to grow in holiness - in obedience and likeness to our Creator and Savior - we must spend time consistently in Scripture.

In an age of magic diet drinks, fitness-while-you-sleep programs, get-rich-quick schemes, and "3 Easy Steps to Instant Success!," ordinary means of grace and growth and ordinary obedience seem pretty radical.

Why is it so difficult for us to do the simple thing that God asks?

A young friend complained to me recently: "I can't afford to tithe."

Familiar with this person's challenging financial situation, I replied: "You can't afford NOT to tithe."

I have witnessed people struggle for years financially, all-the-while commenting that "Once I get things straightened out" or "Once I get past this crunch I'm in" they would give to kingdom work. I am all-to-familiar with this trap, because I have spent way too much time there myself!

And yet, Scripture is clear that tithing is the beginning of financial discipline and freedom - the very same financial discipline we need if we're to dig out of this hole, weather that next crisis, etc. To presume that we can figure out how to manage God's money well (because it IS all God's) without following God's financial guidelines doesn't make sense.

Likewise, determining to lay behind us a particular sinful habit or to develop a particular spiritual discipline before we seek God - in his Word and in prayer - makes no sense. It is foolish to think we can conquer sin or pursue holiness without a knowledge of God, as He reveals himself in Scripture, and without the presence and power of God's Spirit, promised to us in Scripture, for Scripture is the basis of our entire relationship with God!

So, back to the basics...

Not after we get our lives together, but now, because it is here that we find life.

Sunday, August 19, 2018

THROUGH FIRE

"For you, O God, have tested us; you have tried us as silver is tried. You brought us into the net; you laid a crushing burden on our backs; you let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and through water; yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance." Psalm 66:10-12

* * *
This past twelve months...it's been a rough year. It has also been a very good year.

Today - this particular day on the calendar - is a special day for me. I have reason today to look back and consider all that has transpired over the past twelve months.

So much joy. So much delight.

So much hurt. So much sorrow. So many tears.

So much growth.

God is ALWAYS good. God is ALWAYS faithful.

We can ALWAYS trust God.

ALWAYS.

But honestly, in seasons of ease and delight, we do not even begin to understand the depth of God's goodness or how unwavering his faithfulness to us. That kind of deep-root growth, that kind of soul refining happens only in the fire.

So, I want to end this special day with this:

Dear One,

What a year! You have indeed been crushed; men have trampled you with evil words; you have walked through fire, and much dross has been burned away. But GOD in his great faithfulness has, by the mercy that is yours in Christ, brought you through the fire to a place of abundance.

Today, I praise God for the work He has already done and for the work He continues to do in and through you.

You have been tried as silver, and come out shining.

Today and every day, I am thankful for you, sweet child.

* * *
"In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith - more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire - may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." 1 Peter 1:6-7

Friday, August 10, 2018

DON'T YOU JUST LOVE IT WHEN GOD GETS ALL UP IN YOUR BUSINESS?

Trying to juggle all the things clamoring for my attention and energy during this new season of life, I have to fight to keep Bible reading, meditation and prayer part of my daily routine. It's a battle, but I am not giving up!

When my prayer group met this past Tuesday evening, my friend Sue prayed that God would provide time in my busy schedule for me to spend time in His Word and to pray.

If my prayer ladies pray for you, you'd better watch out!

I got into bed late Tuesday night after an awesome prayer session with my sisters. Exhausted from a long day of work, a late-night meeting and too-little-sleep the night before, I fell asleep thinking I would delay the next day's getting-up time by fifteen minutes.

Instead, I woke up at 4:00 in the morning.

Seriously, God? I thought when I rolled over and looked at the clock. Seriously?! Don't you think I deserve a little more sleep?!

Well, sleep was NOT going to happen, so I began to pray instead. An hour later, I stumbled to the shower to begin another long, exhausting day.

* * *

On my lunch break, I reviewed this week's memory verse for the Wednesday night Bible study at church: "But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified" (1 Corinthians 7:27).

We are working our way through The Pursuit of Holiness, by Jerry Bridges. The book is about personal holiness. About pursuing personal holiness, which is hard work. The discipline of personal holiness requires effort, perseverance and sacrifice.

Because of our sin nature, we are not naturally inclined to holiness. The world distracts us and lures us away from holiness. Satan opposes our growth in holiness in too many ways to count, and he is subtle, persistent and ruthless.

As folks drifted in for the study that evening, my friend Dana asked how I was doing.

"I'm still adjusting to this new work schedule," I replied. "Plus, I was up really late last night, and I hoped to sleep in a little bit this morning, but then it was like God woke me up - wide awake - at 4:00 this morning and wouldn't let me go back to sleep because He thought I should be praying. I am SO TIRED!" I went on to relate my struggle to keep Bible study and prayer a priority during this new season of life, and to describe how this week's chapter had been particularly challenging and convicting for me.

We began the lesson Wednesday evening by taking turns reading through all the verses referenced in this week's study. The verse that fell to me? The verse I got to read aloud to our group?

"But make sure that you don't get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! God is putting the finishing touches on the salvation work he began when we first believed. We can't afford to waste a minute, must not squander these precious daylight hours in frivolity and indulgence, in sleeping around and dissipation, in bickering and grabbing everything in sight. Get out of bed and get dressed! Don't loiter and linger, waiting until the very last minute. Dress yourselves in Christ, and be up and about!" (Romans 13:11-14, The Message).

By the time I finished reading the passage to the group, I was laughing. This is ridiculous! I thought. Can God be any more explicit?!

So, Sue and Brenda: God answers our prayers. (But we already knew that, didn't we?)

Thankfully, He has not waked me up at 4:00 every morning this week. He has, however, been all up in my business, and He has made sure I had ample time to spend with Him each day.

Friday, August 3, 2018

TRANSITIONS

I love learning and I enjoy interacting with people. At the new job, I get to do both. 🙂

Plus, I get to wear comfy, cool-looking, easy-to-maintain scrubs. I'm not very big on fashion sense and I don't like shopping, so the uniform is definitely a plus.

Things I have learned my first week on the job:

If I am going to juggle home, a job, and writing, I need to make good use of my time. Oddly, having less time to work with (or rather, a greater number of things to accomplish in the 24 hours I've been given each day), I seem to get more done. Guess I'm super-conscious of the fact that time is precious and I'd better not waste it! That said...

The housework and yard work are still going to suffer. Sure, I could spend evenings tidying bloomed-out flowerbeds or washing woodwork, but...nah. Clean woodwork is over-rated.

I need to schedule time to mentally process everything that's going on in my world. If I don't have consistent time to sit quietly and THINK, I start to feel like I have ping-pong balls bouncing around inside my head. At the end of Week 1, I'm a walking bingo-ball tumbler! Thank goodness for a restorative, meditative yoga session with Erica tomorrow morning.

This new arrangement is not only an adjustment for me - it's an adjustment for the people I love, too. I am thankful my youngest updates me on her plans and works with me to co-ordinate our schedules. I miss frequent afternoon visits with the in-laws next door. I HATE that I was not free to spend several days with my son and daughter-in-law when they welcomed the newest addition to their family last week. The outside claims on my time definitely require an adjustment, but I'm confident we'll figure this new "normal" out.

I am more grateful than ever for the prayers, support, and encouragement of family and friends. You all have helped make what could have been a difficult and stressful transition into a delight and an adventure. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thursday, July 26, 2018

SUN, SAND, SURF...REST

Melbourne Beach, Florida

Wow! I haven't checked in here at the blog in two whole weeks! I stepped away from writing assignments, laundry, and kitchen duty to enjoy a much-needed break from routine chores and deadlines.

I haven't had a do-what-I-want, when-I-want, at-my-own-pace, kick-back-and-relax vacation in...well, in so long that I can't remember. I figured it was time for a holiday, before stepping into the harness of a new job.

Some people are late bloomers. I am fifty-four years old. This summer, for the first time ever, I planned a vacation: booked lodging, planned transportation, budgeted for meals and gas, the whole she-bang. The entire process was an adventure - and I enjoyed every bit of it!

My youngest son is living near the east coast of Florida this summer, and my youngest daughter (the last chicken at home) has long wanted to experience a beach holiday, so a beach vacation seemed the natural choice. It. Was. Awesome. I understand why folks with the time and the money make annual visits to the coast.

I love the beach. I love the sun, the sand, the sound of the water. I love the people. I love the nothing to do but PAUSE, breathe, rest. I also love swimming. I am very buoyant even in fresh water, but in salt water...well, let me put it this way: if I were an animal, I'd be a manatee.

Sunshine, surf, and good company.

Our second day in Melbourne, we met up with a friend from nearby Orlando for some brain-stimulating conversation and a short road-trip to Vero Beach for sushi.

Sushi date - yum!

Sunday, a day of soul refreshment, worshiping with brothers and sisters at Covenant Presbyterian Church in Melbourne. In the afternoon, a stroll along the boardwalk at Turkey Creek Sanctuary in Palm Bay.

According to Ben, it rains EVERY afternoon.
Should've brought a bigger umbrella!


Monday, the youngest and I packed the car before daybreak and headed to the beach one last time, to watch the sun rise.














Sunrise over Paradise Beach. It amazes me that the God who creates this kind of enormous, powerful, heart-swelling beauty every single morning - that same God knows me and loves me and He hears and answers my prayers.

Finally, with full hearts and refreshed bodies, we turned and headed west toward home.

Today, CATCH UP! Laundry, grocery shopping, writing assignments...but work is a pleasure after such sweet rest. We are both looking forward now to our different jobs and to school. And already, we are planning our next adventure.

Thursday, July 12, 2018

IN BETWEEN, TOGETHER

Life five years ago was routine, predictable: school, laundry, taxi service, church, dentist appointments, feed the cat, music lessons...

Life five years from now will no doubt be characterized by routine, too. What that routine will look like? I have no idea.

Today, however, I find myself in a season of In Between, between full-time homeschool mother of seven - and - who knows what. This is a place of shifting rhythms and irregular activity, where the demands of each day differ from those of the day before, and each month's calendar creates a unique thumbprint of life lived between lives.

I do not like In Between. I like The Known. I like familiar, routine, predictable.

My oldest son once commented that there is wisdom in planning one's family so that kids are not going through puberty at the same time Mom is going through menopause. (Amen, Little Brother!)

I will say, however, that there is something very sweet about being In Between together, me and my youngest.

We share similar struggles, frustrations and faith challenges. Although I am fully confident my youngest has a beautiful life ahead of her, I am sympathetic to her questions, doubts and fears. I know firsthand how little comfort platitudes like "Oh, don't worry...everything will work out fine!" can be. I understand that the best I can do for my daughter is listen, encourage and pray as she works through the challenges of this season her own way and at her own pace.

I do not like change, but I should not be afraid of it. While I do not know what the future holds, I do know with absolute certainty that God is sovereign, faithful, loving and good. I may not be able to answer my youngest's questions about the future, but I can share with her a confident faith in the One who does have answers to life's difficult questions.

She, in turn, gives her mother bursts of sunshine and delight as we walk this foggy path together: music, sung or played; spontaneous dance parties; spur-of-the-moment adventures; ice cream runs. Her joy for life is never long suppressed, even when life is full of uncertainty. And her joy is contagious.

In five years, my dear child, we will both be in very different places in our lives, perhaps calmer, more settled, more predictable places. But today, I am thankful we get to walk the path through In Between together.


Tuesday, July 10, 2018

THE BEST WAY TO PRAY...IS TO PRAY

"I wonder how many of us really think about the power and privilege of prayer," the pastor said. My prayer sisters - one of whom sat three pews behind me that Sunday morning - immediately came to mind. "B--- does!" I thought. "And S---!"

For over a year and a half now, we have met every other week to pray for one another. These small coffee-shop prayer meetings have radically impacted my faith and my day-to-day life. We have seen God answer so many prayers, often in ways we could not have imagined beforehand. God's faithfulness has encouraged us to pray more, pray bigger, pray braver.

As we have prayed for and with one another, as we have wept together, laughed together, and truly wrestled - like Jacob - with God, God has knit our hearts and lives together. He has given us the courage to be honest, vulnerable, and broken, and the freedom to be ridiculously, ecstatically joyful.

Do you struggle with prayerlessness? Do you desire to be more prayerful? Let me encourage you to find a friend and simply ask: "Will you pray with me?"

Don't wait until you get your life together. Don't wait until you feel spiritual, or like less of an emotional disaster. Don't wait for somebody else to take the initiative.

Grab a friend TODAY and pray.

Then, meet and pray again.

And again.

Keep praying, and you will be blown away by the power, mercy, and goodness of God. He LOVES to answer prayer.

You'll not only want to pray more: you'll be moved to worship.

For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them. - Matthew 18:20

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

GIFT

"What do you think are the most valuable things Mrs. Linda and Dr. Harriss taught you as piano teachers?" I was making conversation as we ran errands in town yesterday.

She thought a moment. "How to read music. Chords and cadences. They gave me the tools to play anything I want." She paused, then added, "And this: Mrs. Linda taught me that the music is not about me. It's a gift to be shared with others."

* * *

"I don't even know why I'm visiting this church. I am not like the people here. I don't even have anything to offer this church, no way that I can serve."

It had been a dark couple of months. On top of everything else that had been lost, she'd been asked to leave the church she loved. "It will just make everything easier," she was told. How many ways can a heart be broken?

No one at the new church knew about the hidden wounds. They just saw a quiet, withdrawn, pale young woman. They didn't know how bright and bubbly she had once been.

A middle-aged woman walked over and sat down beside her on the pew. "Hi! My name is Melodee," she smiled. "We are so glad to have you worshiping with us this morning!"

Melodee, it turned out, was the church pianist. Just the week before, Melodee and her husband had put a contract on a house several states away.

After service, Melodee ran up, her eyes glowing. Melodee took her by the hand. "Did I hear right? Do you play the piano?"

"Yes."

"Praise God!" Melodee explained that she and her husband would be moving in two months, and that they had been praying that God would provided another pianist. "Would you please pray about maybe playing the piano for church? I think you might be the answer to our prayers!"

* * *

She's been playing for worship a couple of months now. Even during practice sessions, there is a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her face. "I LOVE helping with the music at church," she told me - yet again - as we drove home from practice last week. "I am having so much fun."

* * *

I wondered Sunday morning if anyone else noticed she had no music on the stand in front of her as she played an offertory. All she had was a melody in her head, a set of tools given to her by two wonderful teachers, and a gift she was eager to share with someone else.

The tune - "His Eye Is on the Sparrow" - an old favorite; the arrangement, entirely her own, made up in the moment, flowing from her heart, through her fingers, to the keys.

* * *

Why should I feel discouraged,
Why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely
and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion?
My constant friend is he:
His eye is on the sparrow,
and I know he watches me.
- Civilla D. Martin (1863-1948)

Friday, June 29, 2018

LESSONS LEARNED FROM TOADS

I've spent a lot of time this summer cleaning a swimming pool. I have learned that toads like swimming pools. Well, they like pools until they don't like them any more; then, I guess, they hate swimming pools. At least, I think the toads would hate the swimming pool...except by then, the toads are dead.

I wonder how many toads drown in swimming pools across the United States every summer. Must be millions.

After I throw the dozen or so dead toads out of the pool filter basket, I try to rescue the live toads still searching for a way out of the pool. I like toads. Toads eat bugs. Toads remind me of happy times in the garden. (I knew it had been a long, lonely week - Steve away at work, the youngest working at 4-H camp - when I found myself talking to the toads I was chasing. Some people talk to their plants; some, to their cats; me...I talk to toads.)

Things I have learned from toads this summer, while cleaning a swimming pool:

Toads are much better swimmers than people.

Sometimes the things we think we absolutely must have - the things we most desperately want - are the very things that will destroy us. I'm pretty sure every one of those toads thought the water looked irresistibly delicious right before he hopped into the pool.

Very good things - like cool, clear water on a hot summer day - can become the very worst things, taken in excess.

Both the shallow end of the pool and the deep end of the pool are deadly - even for an expert swimmer - if you cannot use the ladder and you refuse the help of the big person standing on the deck.

Sometimes fear makes us run away from the thing we need the most. Not ONE of the toads I saved this summer swam toward me - they all swam as fast as they could away.

Blessings are found in unexpected places...like, "Hey, toad, that big scary woman sweeping a pool skimmer toward you really is your new best friend!"

And now, enough about toads. Time to get dinner on the table!

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 4 of 4)

(This is Part 4 of a 4-part series. For previous posts, click: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3.)

Why does the church neglect and wound her own? I can think of lots of possible reasons: sin, apathy, laziness, self-interest, callousness, ignorance, denial, wrong doctrine, misplaced loyalties, blindness (sometimes willful), rebellion...

While the question deeply concerns me and is worth study, accurately diagnosing why a particular congregation of the visible church neglects or wounds its members is a job for someone with much more life experience and training than I possess. I am, however, qualified to say to someone who has been wounded by the church she loves: "You are not alone." If you are that person, I want to encourage you:

It is okay to acknowledge, "This happened to me, and it was wrong." Pretending that "It's all good!" when, in fact, it is NOT all good is not only not helpful - to you or to the church - it is harmful. Settling for a false short-term peace over the grungier long-term work of sanctification and spiritual health is like taking an aspirin to treat cancer.

Acknowledge the hurt, but don't make it your whole life. Of the churches mentioned in Part 1 of this series of posts, all three have serious problems that need to be addressed, but they also have many strengths and positive qualities. If you have been hurt by the church (or by someone in the church), resist the urge to paint the situation with one big brush - everything about the church/person is all bad, all the time. Acknowledge what is wrong, but also be mindful of what is good. Then, move ahead. The future is much bigger than the past.

Obviously, if you attend a local church where Scripture is not preached and taught accurately and faithfully, you need to find another church! Likewise, if your local church fosters and perpetuates attitudes, policies, and practices that undermine the spiritual health of its members, and if the church has a history of refusing to correct this situation, you need to find another church. Do not feel guilty about that.

Leaving a church you love is not an easy thing to do, and the decision to leave an unhealthy church is not one that should be made lightly. Dig deeply into God's Word and prayerfully seek your Father's will. Find other Christians to pray for you and with you. Seek outside counsel. Pray for God to guide each step as you walk this difficult path.

One of the beauties of the Gospel is that Christ redeems everything in the lives of his followers. This includes our wounds, our tears, and our brokenness. I see two ways (there are doubtless more) that a child of God can grow from and learn from a bad experience in the church:

First, these experiences expose ways that we are prone to make the church an idol. Yes, I should love my church and I should be able to trust my sisters and brothers in Christ, particularly my leadership, to have my best interest at heart and to love me well. But, where have I perhaps placed a level of confidence and security in others that I should place only in God? God is a jealous God, and He will not tolerate idolatry in his people - even if the thing I "worship" is a good thing, like my local church. Where I am convicted of such idolatry, I need to repent.

Second, ask yourself, "What have I learned from this experience that equips me to better love others in the church?" Going back to the three people mentioned in Part 1: The woman ignored by her church leadership knows personally how painful it is to be "put off" and forgotten; she knows that when a sister in Christ says, "I need to talk," she needs to make time to listen, the sooner the better. The young man given no satisfactory answers to hard questions, he knows personally how damaging trite answers and misapplied Bible verses can be to the souls of the wounded, and he will not want to do to others what was done to him. The young woman abandoned by her church, she knows now how important it is - how necessary, if we are to emulate Christ - to walk toward the suffering rather than away, even if it makes her uncomfortable.

When we've been hurt, we often want to focus entirely on the faults of the offender and on how that person needs to correct certain attitudes and behaviors. Listen to someone who has been there: you cannot control the behavior of others. What you can do, however, is choose how you will behave.

Every single one of us how the power to be a force for health, healing, growth, and meaningful relationship within the church. What will you do?

Thursday, June 21, 2018

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 3 of 4)

(Part 1: HERE. Part 2: HERE.)

I do not know why the church neglects and wounds her own. I do know...

It is not because the church loved me well that I grew to love Jesus. It is because Jesus loves me well that I am resolved to love the church. Even when I am neglected, wounded, weary, sore.

And toward that end, I pray: God, please grant me true repentance. Not lip service, but genuine contrition. Help me to turn away from this wickedness in my heart that inclines me not to love your bride.

I pray God will forgive me for simplistic answers and misapplied Bible verses, Scripture wielded like a bludgeon against the stumbling and the broken-hearted.

I pray God will forgive me for settling for shallow, superficial relationships. Of  saying "It's so good to see you!" on Sunday morning, then giving no thought to that person throughout the week. Lord, give me the desire for and equip me to pursue relationships that are intentional, engaged, intimate, inconvenient.

I pray God will forgive me for my self-defensiveness, lack of faith, and fear of dark places of the soul. Jesus went to hell and back for his people. Why do I think He expects me to do less? Jesus says, "Follow me."

I pray for eyes to see the needs of those around me, and for wisdom and discernment to know how to love my sisters and brothers well.

I pray that God will cure me of lethargy, passivity, and self-interest.

I pray for courage to walk toward the hurting and into the strife, not away, even when I am hurting, too.

I pray for integrity, the moral strength to tell the truth instead of ignoring sin or pretending everything is fine when it is not, simply because I fear the reactions of others.

I pray for mercy, for me and for the church I love.

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 2 of 4)

(For Part 1 of this series of posts, click HERE.)

I do not know why the church neglects and wounds her own. I do know...

Within the visible church - those gathered under the name of Christ - there are both wheat and tares, sheep and goats, true shepherds and hirelings; and while I may think I know which is which, only God knows the true condition of a person's heart.

I know that even among wheat, sheep, and shepherds, we are not all at the same place at the same time, spiritually speaking. My faith journey and yours will not look exactly the same. I may be blind to things that you can see. You may be unaware of things to which I am spiritually sensitive. We need much grace, for ourselves and as we relate to one another.

I know that even the church - a very good thing - can become an idol. I am tempted to look to the church to satisfy and sustain me, rather than looking to Jesus. When the church utterly fails me, I realize how much of my faith I have put in the church, in the people who make up the church, instead of in God.

I know that the church is a redeemed harlot, and that old ways are hard to leave behind. Like the prostitute in 2 Kings 6, those within the visible church will even "eat their own children." And yet Christ, possessing power and love that we cannot comprehend, looks at his sin-scarred bride and says: She is precious to me; I will redeem her; I WILL redeem her.

I know that my redeemer calls me to love as He loves, even the most unlovely, and especially his bride. To answer that call, I must keep my focus on and fan my desire for Jesus.

Come, Lord Jesus!

Friday, June 15, 2018

WHY DOES THE CHURCH NEGLECT HER OWN? (Part 1 of 4)

It scares me, sometimes, to sit down here at the blog and put my fingers to the keyboard. How appropriate that Scripture exhorts Christians to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling," for fear and trembling are close acquaintances!

How is it that God compels me to write this or to write that? God lays a burden on my heart, or speaks with ringing clarity through a passage of Scripture or through a brother or sister in Christ, or He meets me in a particular circumstance of life, or in some other way stirs me up so that, without fully understanding why, I am compelled to write.

I often ask, "Why? Why must I write about this, Lord? Why now?" Sometimes He tells me why. A comment or a private message: "Thank you so much for this post. It is exactly what I needed to read today." - or - "Your words have given me new courage." - or - "It is good to know I am not alone." Sometimes, the answer to my "Why?" is a stinging rebuke that leads me to repentance or a challenge that stretches me, pushes me outside my comfort zone.

Often, however, my "Why?" receives no answer.

Then there are times when, compelled to write, I respond: "Really? Must I go there?!" I protest, balk, stall, fighting against the fire growing inside my bones. "No, Lord! Please, do not make me go there!" I love writing here at the blog, but let me be honest: so many of these posts are bathed in tears, written only after long resistance and great struggle.

So it is today.

Today's post is difficult for me to write, for it is written from a broken heart. God has not told me why, or to what end, only to write. I do so with fear and trembling, desperate for and thankful for the prayers of those faithful sisters who take my name often into the throne room of God. I suspect this may grow into multiple posts...I really have no idea...know only that I can no longer bear the fire, and so I must begin.

* * *
"It was a difficult time in my life. My family was disintegrating around me. A close friend died. I was confused, angry, and depressed. I struggled with some really hard questions about God and faith. I went to my church for help. I was given no solid answers, only platitudes - people said I needed to have more faith, and just trust God.

"They offered me no comfort, no assurance, no real hope. I decided then that this Christianity thing was all a bunch of lies, people playing make-believe, trying to make other people 'do the right thing' so maybe we could all feel good about ourselves."

He shifted in his seat. "That's when I left the church."

So much sadness behind those young eyes.

* * *
"I need help. Can I please meet with the session?" The woman wondered if the church leader to whom she spoke noticed she was trembling.

"Absolutely. We have our regularly monthly meeting next week. I will put you on the agenda."

But next week's meeting was cancelled. One of the elders was out of town.

"Please, I need help. Can I meet with you?" she asked again.

"Of course. Come to our December meeting."

But December's meeting was a Christmas social for leaders and their wives, not a "business" meeting. Not a meeting for the flock. Certainly not a meeting for one sheep needing to talk about her problems.

"I need to talk to someone." She no longer tried to hide the trembling, and tears streaked down her cheeks.

"Oh! I am so sorry! Yes, certainly, come to our January meeting. Of course we want to help!"

But January's meeting was rescheduled. Somehow, the woman didn't get the message.

And then, she just disappeared. Was it strange that not one single person called to see if she was okay, to see if she was even still alive?

* * *
"Why did the women at ----/[her church] abandon me?" the young woman asked. "They said they loved me. They said they would always be here for me. But when I needed them most, they disappeared. I was completely broken, I was dying inside, and nobody even checked on me. Nobody prayed with me. Nobody told me they miss me. It's like they completely forgot I exist."

She paused, blinked several times and sniffed. "I love these women. They said they loved me. I believed them." She looked me in the eye. "Why did the women at ---- abandon me?"

I did not have an answer.

* * *
The three people mentioned above are real people. The three churches they attended, real churches.

These three people loved their churches. They were not nominal members, showing up only on holidays and potluck Sundays. They entered into church membership asking: "How can I serve?" They volunteered in the nursery, participated in and taught Bible studies and Sunday school classes, joined in youth activities, prayed for their church leadership, ministered to and wept with other church members. They desired to know God better and to love his people well.

These three churches - you can attend any one of them this Sunday. You will hear solid, biblical preaching from the pulpit. You will sing theologically rich hymns and worship songs. You can read in the bulletin about church programs and activities, opportunities for service, and missionaries and ministries supported by each church. You will be warmly welcomed by friendly, smiling people: "Nice to meet you! I'm so glad you're here!"

* * *
The three people mentioned above did not sink quietly into despair, hoping that someone would notice and take the initiative to help them. When they encountered trials, hardship, and serious faith challenges, they went to their church leadership and to other church members and asked for help.

Help was promised. Help was not given.

I don't have enough fingers to count the number of people who have related similar experiences to me recently. People neglected by and/or deeply wounded by the very ones who should have come to their succor, those charged with their welfare, their shepherds, their sisters and brothers in Christ.

Why does the church neglect and wound her own? I don't know why. That is the question behind this post and those following.

* * *
I do not want to end on a sad note.

God is gently working in the hearts of the three people mentioned above. He is bringing them through grief and despair into new life and hope. He has brought each into a fellowship where they can heal, learn, grow, and serve.

God is faithful, even when the church is not.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

DRAGON TALES

Is there any prayer too weighty or any prayer too light to lift up in faith to a loving Father?

I was tasked with preparing the children's sermon for Sunday morning. Bill would be preaching from Acts 11, on how a critical spirit robs us of joy, and how truth transforms a critical spirit into a joyful spirit, a spirit able to see and to celebrate God's goodness and grace.

Peter, in Acts 10, had been critical of non-Jews, unwilling to associate with them. God changed Peter's heart, and then, through Peter's obedience, brought Cornelius (a Roman centurion) and several other Gentiles into the family of God.

Peter returned to his Jewish friends in Jerusalem, eager to share the good news of how God was bringing even non-Jews to faith in Christ. Peter's Jewish friends, however, were more concerned that Peter had spent time with and eaten with "unclean" Gentiles. They responded to Peter's news not with joyful celebration, but with criticism. Like Peter, they needed God to change their hearts.

Reflecting on the events of Acts 10 and 11, I thought of Eustace Scrubb, the boy who because of dragonish thoughts in his heart, became an actual dragon (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C. S. Lewis). Like Peter, and like Peter's friends in Jerusalem, Eustace had a critical spirit. He complained about everyone and everything, making himself and those around him miserable.

Eustace was a dragon long before he took on scales, claws, and leathery wings. His outward transformation simply reflected the inward condition of an already serpentine heart.

In order for Eustace to live - and to experience any measure of joy and contentment - he had to be un-dragoned. Just like Peter. Just like Peter's friends. Just like me.

And so, as I was praying and studying and thinking how best to present this lesson to young children, I thought, "I really wish I had a dragon to show the children, not a cute dragon but one that is fierce and dangerous, with sharp teeth and claws, one the children can see and touch."

I learned last week that dragons are very rare in Obion County. (Actually, dragons are everywhere here, but maybe because people are so desperate to deny these dragons exist, they refuse to keep even toy dragons around.) I looked everywhere I could think...no dragon.

Finally! I found a dragon, a perfect dragon - scaly, sharp-toothed, claws bared and outstretched - at Rural King in Martin. He was beautiful! He was also expensive, too expensive for my small budget, and definitely too expensive to justify for a one-Sunday-morning children's lesson. I returned the red dragon to the store display with a sigh. Maybe I could find another dragon elsewhere.

Saturday morning, still no dragon. And here is where my story gets fun...

I requested a book via inter-library loan at the OC library a couple of weeks ago. The book was expected to arrive a week ago last Wednesday. The book was not on my summer to-read list - I requested the book because it had been recommended by a dear friend.

The book took longer to arrive than expected. I received a call from the library on Friday - I could come pick up my book. "I can't make it to Union City today - may I pick it up tomorrow?"

"Absolutely! It will be waiting for you at the circulation desk."

Saturday morning, I drove to Union City for the book. "Lord," I prayed, "I know this is a ridiculous request, but could you please send me a dragon?" I thought perhaps Carolina, the children's librarian, might have a dragon. I would ask. "Please, Lord?"

Carolina wasn't at the library Saturday morning, and none of the other librarians knew of any dragons on the premises. I checked out my book and turned to leave.

Sign-up for youth soccer was at the library Saturday morning. I ran into my nephew and his young son. We exchanged greetings and hugs.

"You don't by any chance have a dragon, do you?"

"No, no, we don't have a dragon," my nephew grinned. He's accustomed to my strange questions.

I headed out the door. On the sidewalk out front, I met another nephew and his young son. (I'm from a large family.)

"Hi!"

"Hi! What are you doing here?"

We exchanged hugs. "You don't by any chance have a dragon, do you?" I ventured.

"Of course we have a dragon," Brian answered matter-of-factly. "Doesn't everybody?"

"No! I've been looking all over for one. Could I PLEASE borrow your dragon?!"

Brian turned to his young son. "Jack, may Aunt Camille borrow your dragon?"

Jack asked me a few questions: why did I want to borrow his dragon? how long would I want to keep it? would it be safe? He thought a moment. "Yes, you can borrow my dragon."

"We'll run it by your house this afternoon," Brian offered.

I drove home thanking and praising God. The Creator and Sustainer of the universe heard my silly little prayer and granted my request. It astounded me to think that weeks, even months before I had any desire for a toy dragon, God put wheels in motion to grant my request - the book loan, the delayed delivery, the summer soccer sign-up schedule, a "chance" meeting at the library.

Brain knocked on my door Saturday afternoon and delivered the dragon, the very same dragon, in fact, that I had found at Rural King earlier in the week. I had stood in Rural King, thinking how perfectly the dragon fit my purpose, and all the while, God had the same dragon waiting for me, in the care of my young grand-nephew.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was published in 1952, twelve years before I was born. I discovered this beautiful story - and Eustace Clarence Scrubb - when I was a child, then rediscovered it when I had children of my own. God brought this story to mind again, last week, as I prepared Sunday's lesson.

Who knows how long ago a worker at a toy factory in Germany molded and painted Jack's small dragon. Who knows the intricate path this dragon traveled, across an ocean, to a toy store somewhere in America, to my little nephew.

To me.

Just the right place, at just the right time.

Thank you, Jack, for letting me borrow your dragon. He behaved beautifully at church on Sunday. He did not bite or claw anyone or set anyone on fire. He sat quietly beside me as Bill delivered a message about how God transforms the hearts of his people.

Little dragon, you have emboldened me to pray bigger, to pray braver. You have reminded me anew: there is nothing my God cannot do.