GOT JOY?

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scornful of its shame, and sat down at the right hand of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. Hebrews 12:2, 3 NIV

Got joy?

What is joy, anyway? Where does it come from? How do we get some?

Not happiness. Happiness depends on what happens to you. Lots of things can make it go away, from stubbing your toe to losing the big game to getting jilted. Joy is independent of what happens. Joy exists in the presence of, in spite of, things that go wrong: pain, loss, disappointment, sickness, grief, frustration, exhaustion, put-downs, bullies, you name it.

Joy comes from the One who made us in His own image.

And, just as I can do nothing to make Him love me more, nothing to make Him love me less, His joy doesn’t depend on my successes and failures. He loves me anyway. And, He rejoices over me with songs of joy.

I come to You in this season of thanksgiving to thank You for enjoying me, Avi, and for letting me enjoy You. Nothing else drives home to me how much You love me, how valuable I am to You, how so not worthless I am. In Your holy name, Amen

 

PAYBACK TIME

 

I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten. Joel 2:25 NIV

 

Eight years old! Today I would be the special one!

But no one mentioned my birthday. Mama’s busy, I reasoned. She’ll cook my cake while I’m at school. That afternoon I leapt from the school bus and hit the ground running—to fresh disappointment.  No word, no smell of baking. Aching with loneliness, I waited outside, near enough to hear her call, far enough to be out of the way.

Supper passed without comment; I choked down the food I had no appetite for. She cleared the table and set us to do our homework. I tried hard, but my mind was on my non-birthday.   

“Y’all get ready for bed, now.”

I stood, then she caught my shoulder and stopped me. I held my breath. What had I done? Would I be sent out into the dark to pick a switch for a spanking?

“You never did say anything about it being your birthday.”

I had spoiled her joke! Guilty, I could neither look at her nor answer.

“Well, here’s your present.” She handed it to me and turned away.

My mother taught us of God’s love—but could even God love someone her own mother couldn’t love?  No. If I let Him see what was inside me, His anger would be even greater than hers.

And, His power was greater. 

I ran from Him. Finally, flushed from my last hiding place, my strength gone, I turned—and found Him waiting, His arms open wide to welcome me.

Years later, with land taken for road improvement, I’d lose young oaks I’d planted, nurtured and loved. I prayed to see their leaves brilliant once more with autumn color, their bare branches white again with snow.

Autumn came, with its bright colors. My trees still stood, but their destruction was imminent. 

Eight years old—but this time, I was a child in the family of my heavenly Father. I spent a tranquil day alone with Him, then went out to look at my Southern autumn, snow-covered, birthday-card  trees and reflect: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you.”

Avi, thank You. You’ve brought me into Your family and made me a child of Your own heart. You haven’t forgotten me, nor do You ever fail to tell me of Your love. Help me to remember You always. In Your holy name, Amen.

 

 

 

 

JARS OF CLAY

You, O LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.                              Psalm 18:28 NIV

       As I drove to an early morning assignment, a shadow lay across my soul. The night sky softened, and sunrise began to play hide-and-seek among trees lining the highway. A fire-edged blue cloud appeared above a distant line of hills—and was gone. Afraid I’d miss the brief sunrise, I sped around a sharp curve.

 

       Straight ahead, a majestic fireball sat enthroned on the horizon, draped in robes of dark pewter cloud, an endless soft blue stretching beyond it. My breath left me and, like Job, I put my hand over my mouth.

     
  We’re candles in the darkness, reflections of the light that cannot be overcome by darkness. 

But we hold His light in fragile earthen vessels.  The weight of this broken creation threatens to crush us. We tremble and cry out for relief.

       Then a window opens in heaven and, if we but look, we catch a glimpse of a world beyond, a soft reminder of His loving presence. Jesus is still enthroned at the right hand of the Father. Our God reigns, even in the darkest hour before dawn.

Prayer: Our Father, teach us to seek Your light in every dark valley. Help us to fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. In Your holy name, Amen

 

 

 

HEAVY, HEAVY HANGS OVER MY HEAD

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.                                 Colossians 3:23  NIV                                                       

I took the plunge this year and signed up for the November NaNoWriMo challenge. National Novel Writing Month. A novel in a month. A whole novel. 50,000 words. 1667 words a day for 30 days.

Whatever made me think I can do this?

Day 4. I’m working on it, putting in some hours—and I’m already behind. In all fairness, though, I’m pushing to finish an online computer class, too.

All I have to do is my best—every day. My best isn’t the same every day. Some days there’s more of me. Some days less of me. Some days less of me left over from the other demands on my life. And when those demanding days come on days that started with less, well…

However much I am, however little, He deserves my best.

Jesus promised not to give us more than we can handle—but He does give us more than we can handle. Why doesn’t my burden feel easy? Why doesn’t my yoke rest light on my neck? What’s the deal here? Why the contradiction?

No contradiction. He gives us more than we can handle in our own strength. He wants us to bring our burdens to Him. He wants to work with us, through us. If we give our burdens to Him, He will gladly place His hands under ours and take the full weight.

Will my 30 days run over into December? Will I meet my goal? Or, will I collapse under a weight too heavy for me?

Depends. Will I let Him carry my burdens, or will I try to go it alone?

Avi, help me to focus all my efforts on pleasing You. And when all I have to give You isn’t enough, please work through me to accomplish Your will. In Your holy name, Amen.

 

GOT THE WANT TO

For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have. II Corinthians 8:12 NIV

I’ve been thinking about a line in my blog post of two weeks ago, THE HOLE IN GOD’S HEART, “…separated from Your very self.”

What a strange concept to self-contained humans!

But, I think it is possible for us to get our finite minds at least partway around this. We’re flesh, but we’re also spirit—and the two are meant to function together. Our spirits make their homes in our bodies, and our bodies are how our spirits get around, how they touch this world and make a difference. Except for prayer and communion with God, our bodies are the only way we have to use our God-given gifts here.

But if our bodies, for whatever reason, are unable to use and express our spiritual gifts, there is a divide within us.

The mom who puts her deep artistic urges on hold while she raises her toddlers, longing for the hours of freedom to paint when they’re finally in school. Then the economy tanks and she's forced to take an exhausting salaried job, no end in sight, her goals unreachable.

The teen-aged musician whose parents belittle his gift, who push him along a path to traditional, but for him empty, success.  

The new retiree, a gifted writer, who finally has time to write that world-reaching Christian novel she’s had to put off for years. But suddenly she’s the full time caretaker of an elderly parent with Alzheimer’s. Still separated from the dream of expressing a vital part of herself, separated from who she really is.

Are these dreams doomed, this season of life endless, these gifts revoked? Or, is there still hope? Always, when the God who made us and created us is in charge.

PRAYER: I want to know You more, Avi, but this one hurts. When the season feels like forever, when I’m numbering down the days I have left to accomplish all that’s adding up, when I’m counting down my strength and energy, please let the ache to use my gifts well be enough. In Your holy name, Amen.

DISSED

Be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage--with great patience and careful instruction.               II Timothy 4:2 NIV

 

This morning in the doctor’s waiting room, a tired looking lady watched me as I transcribed notes from my tape recorder. I don’t remember how the conversation started or took the direction it did, but after it had started I put my pen down and told her what I was doing—writing—and about the place I write.

 

I would've been pleased with a prefab yard building, any place out of the wind and rain where I could focus without distractions, but God is generous in supplying what we need  in order to do what He calls us to do. He gave me a real cottage, so much more that I would’ve been willing to settle for, for a fraction of what it should've cost.

 

She nodded at this—but when I asked, “Do you go to church anywhere?” her expression hardened.

 

“No,” she said. She looked away, then back again. “I can have a relationship with God without going to a church full of hypocrites.”

 

I nodded not in agreement but in understanding. I had no words for her. I can’t answer such a personal objection unless I have time to listen to her and find out where her pain is, assuming she’s even willing to share.

 

Later I wished I’d remembered to tell her about the three great humiliations of Christ: 1) taking on one of our broken bodies; 2) being mocked and rejected and dying in a humiliating manner in our place; then 3) going back to Heaven and leaving His reputation to us.

 

What kind of God would do this? It’s hard enough to fathom a love that would come for us, die for us—but a love that would place His own good Name in the hands of bumbling,  unfinished people? How unworldly of Him!

 

Yes, how unworldly. How heavenly.

 

Avi, I cannot always be prepared. My mind is too small, too distracted, too slow to change gears out of season. Teach me to listen for Your words even in the storm, and speak through me when You will. In Your holy Name, Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

THE HOLE IN GOD'S HEART

Deep calls to deep in the roar of Your waterfalls; all Your waves and breakers have swept over me.
                                                                                                                                                             Psalm 42:7 NIV 

 We’re made in God’s image with a God-shaped hole in our hearts that only He can fill.

Does it make sense that the God who made us would give us something that’s outside the pattern He made us by? Something He Himself lacks?

God doesn’t get lonely in the sense that we do—or does he? Why else does deep call to deep?

Here is a mystery: God is complete, lacking nothing—but there’s a hole in His great heart. A Grace-Potts-shaped hole. A ______fill-in-your-own-name-shaped hole.

He wants His children back.

God and Adam walked in the garden every evening. Perhaps there was a taste of bitterness for God in the knowledge that Adam would betray Him but, for that moment, they both knew the intimacy we’re made for. Then, when the bond between God and man snapped, God’s heart cracked with a sound echoing through the ages.

He still aches for His loss, for our loss, for what He knew we would have to go through alone. For what He knew He would have to endure to get us back: separation from His very self. For knowing that some, loved as deeply as every other one, would still refuse to return to Him.

God aches with unfulfilled hunger for a unique intimacy. We, lost children and the object of that hunger, are the only ones who can satisfy it. He wants us to choose Him, to love Him and accept His love. He wants a relationship with us. As He walks here with those who will join Him, He gives, and enjoys with us, hints of Heaven, tastes of what is to come.

Walk with Him, and enjoy His pleasure.
 

PRAYER: My need for You is so overwhelming at times that I don’t know how I can survive until I’m completely filled with You at home, Avi. I can’t imagine how consuming the heart hunger is that compelled You to pay such a price for me. Let me be a part of the healing of Your own heart. Make me Your home here, and shine Your light out through the cracks of what I am not, for Your glory. In Your holy name, Amen.