Works In Progress

I’m so very proud to share a devotional by my daughter, Elizabeth, who is both lovely and wise beyond her years.

Recently I was on a run through a forest on a rough trail when the path took me up a narrow, steep incline that was almost vertical. As I  ran, trying to keep up the pace, I knew that it was critical for my feet to fall in exactly the right places and for me to keep my footing or I would fall  down the incline and have to start all over again. My brother, who was running with me, was already waiting at the top of the hill laughing and urging me to keep running and kick up the pace.

As I focused, my mind made the connection between this challenge and my spirituality.

I began to think of that hill as my walk with God, and the ability to run up that hill as faith. Once I reached the top, I thought of a friend who was not in shape. If she were to try to run up that hill, she would injure herself or fall back down the hill. I then thought of my brother  who is in extremely good condition, and who had taken that hill at a much faster pace than I.  Then I thought about myself. It had taken me a moment to consider running the hill as opposed to stopping and hiking it, to make sure I could successfully make it to the top before I had decided to run it.

I evaluated the scenarios spiritually.  The friend who was not a believer would find it impossible to make it up that hill. She was not prepared and wouldn’t know how to successfully reach the top. She hadn’t learned how to get good footing and lean in all the right angles and so she would fall and be injured.

My brother would stand for the one with a closer relationship with God, his faith would be much greater than mine. He was sure of his footing and would be able to quickly get to the top and turn to encourage those behind him. He knew that he could make it and he knew what awaited him at the top.

As for me,  I was confident in my abilities, and faith, and knew that I could quickly run that hill with ease and think of it as fun. After a few moments however, I doubted and I thought that surely I would fall back down; there was no way I could keep my footing steady the whole way up. The mere fact that I doubted for even an instant, both in running and in my life with God, shocked me. I know my faith in Christ is strong but the realization that I still have split seconds of doubt was not a comfort until I remembered that if I only looked up, my brother would be at the top of the hill laughing and waving at me to hurry up, saying that it was doable and all I had to do was keep the pace.

It reminded me that we need to constantly develop our faith. One cannot relax for months on end and win a marathon on a whim, it takes constant training and a lifestyle that promotes success. In the same way, that spiritual hill is easily overcome  to the one who stays in the Bible, keeps people around them who are farther in their walk and constantly pushes to get to a higher level of faith, a closer relationship.  It also showed me how important it is that we help those who are not as far along on their walks as we are. Encouraging one another and guiding others along the way are simple things that make a notable difference.

Now each time I run that hill it becomes increasingly easy and I no longer think about it, I just place my feet in the correct spots and I know in a matter of moments I’ll be at the top. And when I turn to see another runner struggling to make it up, I am able to laugh and show them where to step.

So often I find myself asking for a removal of difficult situations and circumstances. But that’s where God teaches me to rely on Him …

We were a family in disarray, like a loosely held bunch of pickup sticks when the hand that has clasped them lets go. Our young daughter was seriously ill – again. Months before she’d been rushed to Children’s Hospital where, after 11 hours of constant asthma treatment, and a near miss admission to the ICU, her lungs finally broke open. Six months later here she was, down again, missing two more weeks of school as doctors searched their experiences and resources to help. We pleaded to God for an answer, for relief, for help. Help seemed long overdue in coming, if at all. God remained silent.

Our son, overlooked during the acute phases, was putting on a good face but his school work and attitude began to fray. My own work was pushed aside and began to pile menacingly at my desk. My husband had permanent ashen smudges under his eyes from many sleepless nights. Still, my daughter’s waxy complexion and complete lack of energy reminded us: she’s not well. We needed a break.

After two months, she seemed to turn a corner. Some kind friends had offered us the use of their beach front condo for a long weekend and we’d been planning on it for months. Well, wouldn’t you know, my daughter came down with a fever the day before we were supposed to go. We NEEDED this break. We wrestled with whether or not we should go. In the end, after prayer, my husband and I both felt that we should go, no matter what.

So we drove.

On the way down the coast, I prayed, Lord, I can step forward in faith here. I don’t NEED to hear from you, but I’d like to.

A few hours later we stopped for dinner and then continued our drive south. We were going a new way – one printed out from the Internet – a way we’d never been before because it was supposed to be safer, but perhaps a bit longer. After driving for some time I asked my husband, “Should we get a map and make sure we’re okay?” At this point, it was 9pm. He agreed, and we pulled into a dimly lit one-horse town at a highway-side Chevron.

My husband got out of the car and went into the gas station. Within seconds, two young people came flying out of the same station, crying and gripping one another’s hands. They ran toward a van parked in the side parking lot. I tried, from my own vehicle, to look into the windows of the gas station. I could see no one. No attendant, no customers, no husband! Minutes dragged by. I couldn’t leave my kids alone in the car and go look and see what was happening. We locked the doors. And then we prayed!

Suddenly, an ambulance screamed up. Then a fire truck. Emergency workers poured out and raced into the store. Through the window, now, I could see my husband standing, so I breathed easier. Next I saw other heads, a woman, clutching a baby to her chest, being ushered into the back of the ambulance. A minute or so later my husband emerged from the store and a young man in his early twenties pumped my husband’s hand before getting into his car and following the ambulance.

As my husband got into the car we all shouted, “What happened?”

While the car was still turned off, he recounted his tale. As soon as he’d walked into the store a woman held out her baby to him and said, “Can you save my baby?” She quickly told him that the baby hadn’t been breathing for a short time. No one at the gas station knew infant CPR and so the crisis had grown. My husband had been trained in all forms of CPR so he quickly answered, “Yes, I can help.” He knelt down, gently extended the baby’s neck, opened her mouth and began to treat her. At each moment he felt the Lord guiding him: when to breathe just a little, when to puff a bit heavier. Shortly thereafter he felt the baby’s feather breaths responding to his. By the time the ambulance arrived, the baby was crying. THIS time, a crying baby was a good sign.

The father later told my husband that the baby had had a seizure in their van on the way up from California, the first the baby had ever had or the parents had ever seen.

As we drove away, and it got quiet again, I felt the Lord speak to me. “There’s your answer,” He said to my heart. And I knew what He meant, as I continued to pray. In this world, there will always be sickness and sorrow and trouble and problems. That baby may have epilepsy, and a life time of management ahead of her.  We are not in heaven yet, and sickness steals upon us all, and sometimes dominates our lives for a time. But God has numbered that baby’s days, and not one of them will be snatched from her before His exactly appointed time. He made sure to get us there to keep her safe that night.

In the same way, my own daughter will have health issues to manage throughout her life, because we’re not in heaven yet. But I can rest easy, knowing that God alone has appointed her days, and He alone will make sure that she lives the full measure of them. If he cares so much for that little baby girl, I know he cares for my daughter, too. My daughter’s fever was gone the next day, and we had a wonderful time.

We never did get a map. But we found our way just fine.

A powerful insight and gentle challenge from my beautiful friend and sister in Christ, Afrika…

I wasn’t sure if I should speak. Everyone else walked to the Convention Center with their eyes to the ground, carrying their Bibles, basins, and towels without saying a word to anyone else. I didn’t want to interfere with the sobriety of the occasion so I kept quiet, too, and followed the crowd. I’d had five counseling sessions in preparation for my baptism a few days prior to this event, but no one really prepared me for this night. This would be the first foot washing service I ever attended, and I didn’t want to mess it up.

I was paired with an older White woman, and I was so nervous. I was an 18-year-old girl from an all Black neighborhood in Brooklyn attending college in East Texas. Even though we attended the same church, I couldn’t help but wonder how the woman felt about washing a young brown girl’s feet. I wasn’t even sure whether or not I should make eye contact with her. I took a chance and looked and her, and her smile and kind eyes put me at ease. The water was so cold, and I wasn’t entirely sure how long I should spend washing her feet. She must’ve sensed that this was my first time, so without saying a word, she took the lead, and this experience ended up being one of the most powerful and memorable times in my life.

I later learned that perfect execution of the foot washing ritual wasn’t the most important thing. It didn’t matter how adept I was at maintaining a quiet disposition during the ceremony, or whether or not I was able to keep myself from giggling while my sister-in-Christ washed my feet. The important thing was to focus on being of service to another believer, and to allow that person to do the same for me. In John 13: 1-16, Jesus surprised His disciples by washing their feet. This was typically something that a servant would do, which explains Peter’s strong reaction to having his feet washed by Jesus. Here, the humility that Jesus shows by washing the disciples exemplifies the true qualities of a Servant-Leader.

Considering that I had such a positive experience with foot washing, I have approached several of my Christian friends, and even church leaders to gauge their interest in establishing a similar practice. Very few people were interested, and I was very surprised. Some commented that we don’t live in a society where our feet get dirty from wearing sandals on dusty roads, so it was no longer necessary. Some said that they just don’t like touching other people’s feet while others expressed that they’re too ticklish to engage in something like that.

Although the foot washing example that Jesus set is not compulsory for modern Christians, it’s important that we explore as many ways to pattern our behavior after that of our Savior, even if it means stepping out of our comfort zone a little. It’s the least we can do in recognition of our Messiah who stepped out His comfort zone to save us. We may be pleasantly surprised by the impact it has on our relationships with fellow believers, especially considering that the world will know that we are His disciples by the love we have for one another.

While I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to have for blogging, I’ve simultaneously been running across many terrific devotional writers. The solution was so obvious it was literally a head-smacking moment. Why not invite these terrific friends to guest blog? Several of them graciously agreed. So over the next few weeks, and perhaps months, I’ll be delighted to share their well-written insights with you. I know you’ll be blessed as I was. I often prayerfully carry their thoughts around with me for days or weeks after reading them.

Write and let me know what you think…

Sandra

I got a new cell phone a couple of months ago. I love its touch screen, the way I can save favorites, the way I can use the scribble pad. It’s got a lot of cool features, but one feature I was unaware of is that my phone plays enjoyable background music to my callers before I pick up the line.

I usually pick up on the second or third ring, so it’s not like people have to wait too long. But sometimes it’s not the right time for me to answer, so listening to good music is definitely better than those irritating or shrill rings. So I was glad to provide that for them. It reminded me, sometimes, of how I wait on the Lord. I “call” Him, so to speak, asking for something, waiting for something, or just hoping to chat. Sometimes He “picks right up” and I hear back from Him either through impressions or words in my heart and mind, through another person, through scripture, or whatever. But more often than not I’m on hold.

And while I am, life goes on. But the days, weeks, and months spent waiting usually include good friends and meals, fun times with my husband and kids, meaningful work, struggles overcome. God has provided some enjoyable background music till it’s the right time for Him to answer.

Last month my husband and I joined a gym. After three years of writing about French pastries it was time to work off the brioche.

Most of the time our work schedules are such that we work out at different times, always checking in with one another to make sure that we actually broke a sweat that day. Some days we get to work out together.

Our work out plan consists of both aerobic and weight training, and for aerobic, we’ve been doing the kind-to-your-knees elliptical. The ellipticals are lined up in a long row, and we choose two next to each other. He’s usually watching the TV on the machine and I’m usually listening to something pumping on the iPod so we don’t actually talk. But I noticed something.

If I slow down to fix my music or grab a towel, he’ll automatically slow his stride to keep in time with me. And if he speeds up, trying to make a caloric breakpoint, I would find myself pushing a little hard to meet his stride. Even if we weren’t directly looking at one another we’d adjust to keep in perfect rhythm.

Isn’t that a picture of what we’re aiming for in marriage? Sometimes I am tired of life, of the struggles and the pain and the worries, and my man slows down his pace long enough to listen to me and to encourage me for the continuing road ahead. Sometimes he’s racing toward something, pushing us to a goal that seems out of reach – but really isn’t – and I speed up to make sure we both grasp it at the same time. Whatever we do, we are one, and we need to always work in tandem if our marriages are to be healthy and in good shape.

For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh. ‘So they are no longer two, but one. Mark 10:7-8

I remember finding a pair of 3-D glasses when I was a kid. When you put them on – one blue lense, one red – you could look at a picture or a movie and it came alive in a whole new way. In the back of comic books, they offered X Ray Vision lenses, promising (falsely) that you’d be able to see right through skin and clothing to the skeleton of all of your friends.

Recently, I ran across a contest in a magazine. In order to decipher if you were a winner or not you had to hold up a piece of red film or cellophane. When you did, it blocked out all of the “noise” and allowed the true picture underneath to be found. Was I a winner? Not that time. But in that contest my husband found an important lesson.

So often as people we think about how we fail – what we do wrong. Besetting sins we constantly struggle with, never seeming to fully overcome. Bad decisions, choices we regret. If we let them, these kinds of sorrows will drag us under, and that’s not at all what God wants for us. When I get caught in that cycle my husband reminds me that after I repent God looks at me through a set of red glasses, the red is the blood of Christ. When He sees me, He doesn’t see the sins He’s forgiven and forgotten nor the flesh I wrestle with. He sees the true me, without all of the noise.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!

2 Corinthians 5:17

So I was flying home from Denver this week, and as is often the case, the weather was iffy. Denver is notorious for thunderstorms in the summer and it’s often bumpy to fly in and out during August. Sure enough, we take off into a bank of clouds.

Great, I’m thinking. I make a pact with God that I won’t complain about the pregnant woman ahead of me whose seat is reclined all the way nor the 7 year old sitting behind me kicking my seat if only the air can stay smooth.

I often pray for smooth air when I’m flying. I don’t really believe we’re going to crash, but it’s just so uncomfortable and out of my control. I’m ashamed to admit I have spent up to half an hour on a flight simply asking God, over and over, to make the air smooth. What I want is comfort, and the reassurance that nothing is going to worry or harm me.

Isn’t that how we are in life, sometimes, too? Instead of praying for the welfare of others, or that people would draw near to Christ, or any of a thousand worthy causes that need our intervention we pray for smooth air. No financial difficulties, no relational difficulties, nothing at all to disturb the illusion that we are in control.

I think next time I’ll spend one minute praying for smooth air and 29 for things that will matter after we land, too.

No, I’m not describing some of the people you love to avoid at church! I’m talking eatin’ crabs.

I love the show Deadliest Catch on Discovery Channel. It follows the lives of Alaskan crab fisherman as they battle the Bearing Sea while trying to trap pots of gold. Literally. A new deckhand can make $80,000 – $100,000 in one season.  I love to eat crab (my kids say that makes me a cannibal!) so I started thinking about crabs.

In order to grow, they have to shed their exoskelaton, called molting, in order to grow a new one. But for the 48 hours or so after shedding one shell and growing a new one they are extremely vulnerable to predators. They need to take refuge, if they can, in a safe place.

That’s kind of like us, isn’t it? Spiritually, emotionally, if we don’t grow we become trapped in shells too small for what we were intended to be. But the step forward – shedding the past and leaping into the future – leaves us vulnerable for a little while. Don’t be afraid to grow as a person or as a believer. Just take refuge in a safe place (good friends, the Word, supportive family) till your new shell grows.

May we all be growing as crabs for the King! Just not to one another…