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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

SLINGSHOT

If anyone considers himself religious and yet doesn’t keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless. James 1:26 NIV

 
What does a tongue do? Aside from helping us to swallow and expressing a few body language shortcuts, it digs words from our hearts and speaks them.

When James wrote the Scripture above, literacy was rare. People had only their tongues to speak with. Today, though, we have other tongues—pens, publishers, keyboards—which have the power to reach the entire world. Toss a pebble into a quiet little pool and the ripples spread to the edge, then die out. Sling that same pebble from your computer keyboard, and it will fall into thousands of interconnected ponds and pools and oceans at once. The ripples can take on a life of their own and become a tsunami.

Some pebbles need to be thrown into the hearts of men: comfort, healing, forgiveness, instruction, encouragement, exhortation. But some pebbles need to be hurled straight back at Satan. Gossip and slander are obvious, or should be, to every Christ-follower. Others, intentional or unintentional, are more subtle. Words that nibble at the foundation of the faith of a child of God. Words that throw a “road closed” sign in front of truthseekers.
 
“Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me” was my mother’s default advice whenever we ran crying to her about some childhood cruelty.
 

She was wrong.

 Sticks and stones can break a bone—but words can break a heart.

Everyone has a voice, even the mute and illiterate. Everyone makes an impression in this world. Everyone makes a difference, good, not-so-good, or bad. Our duty, and our joy, is to shine the love of Christ, the knowledge of Christ, the hope of Christ, into this dark world.

Have you examined that word you’re about to load into your slingshot? Is it a building stone? Or, is it a wrecking ball?

Dear Jesus, You prayed for our unity. Help us to use words to reach into each other’s hearts to draw together, not to drive apart. In Your holy name, Amen.

 

 

 

CREDIT RATING

And he (Abram) believed God, and He credited it to him as righteousness. Genesis 15: 6 NIV

Abram was a giant of faith, prominent in the honor roll of Hebrews 11. God commended him for his belief; he honored God with his trust.

And how much credit do we get? The big one, for sure, if we believe that God Himself died in our place so we could be forgiven. Eternal life has already begun for us, if we accept His sacrifice.

But we still have to get through this joyful, broken, impossible life.

Do we believe the promises He gives for the journey? When we feel alone, do we trust our feelings, or do we believe, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”? When our heavy loads threaten to overwhelm us, do we believe, “My yoke is easy, and My burden light.”? When we stumble over temptations, do we believe, “But the LORD is faithful, and will make a way of escape.”?

When we wander in the wilderness of what-if’s and how-can-I’s, do we believe He will always make a way where there seems to be no way? When the journey seems too long and we lose sight of our destination, do we believe, “I am preparing a place for you, and I’m coming soon to take you home.”?

Day to day practical faith is hard to maintain. Even Abram, champion of faith, faltered and trusted instead in his own strength and wisdom. But our God is a God of forgiveness. Like Abram, we must turn again to our Shepherd. We must let Him lift us up and set us back on our feet to follow Him.

Cast your cares on Him, the One who has never broken a promise.

 

PRAYER: Father, I believe; please help my unbelief. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

HOME HUNGER

As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after Thee. Psalm 42:1

I want to go home. I look forward to being with my God in Heaven, long for it, ache for it—but one thing troubles me. We are to “rule” with Christ. This seems so far outside my talents and abilities in this world that I cannot imagine ever being able to do it, much less enjoy it.

But Heaven will be joy. I can’t reconcile this.

I’ve been reading Randy Alcorn’s book, Heaven. The first thing I did was scan the index, then go straight to the two chapters on animals in Heaven. Then I started back at the beginning. Last night he brought me up short on Page 221 with this: “Of course, not all positions of responsibility over others involve people. Adam and Eve governed animals before there were any other people. Some of us may be granted the privilege of caring for animals. Perhaps some will care for forests. Ruling will likely involve the management of all God’s creation, not just people.”

YES!

I put the book down and turned out the light, but sleep eluded me. Pictures of my new home raced through my mind: out on the hills with David, watching over my flock, writing songs and books and hymns of praise to my Father, just like David.

Hmmm, maybe not. I’m not that familiar with sheep…

I know! I’m traveling from flock to flock at Jesus’ side, checking on their welfare and visiting with their shepherds. As we walk together, I play for Him some exotic heavenly instrument made just for me. My dogs, all the dogs I’ve ever loved (Hey, it’s my fantasy) follow at our heels or race across the fields and back again.

No, even better, we ride side by side on matching white horses. Mine’s a sweet mare named Contentment At Last. I call her Ten. And her foals are Peace Everlasting, Here I Belong, and Home Forever.

When we come to one of Heaven’s mighty rivers, our horses leap over effortlessly. We enter the forest my best friend cares for—a forest of trees more luxurious than the cedars of Lebanon, loftier than the mighty Sequoias of California—and see herds of graceful deer eating from his hand. I lift my instrument and begin to play his favorite song. He turns to us, and the joy in his eyes matches my own. He lifts his trumpet to join me as Jesus sings, “As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul has longed for My children.”

 Avi, my Father, thank You for the promise of a home with You. Thank You for paying the price to fulfill this promise. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DOES JESUS KNOW?

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have One who has been tempted in every way—yet was without sin. Hebrews 4:15 NIV

This morning I carried food from the kitchen to the dining room, and had to turn around and carry it back—again. Both hands full of breakfast, I couldn’t set a plate down to clear a space on the table. As hard as he tries, my husband can’t seem to make much headway with his stacks—but couldn’t he at least leave clear the places on the dining table that I need for our plates?

Clutter is a serious problem for me. Clutter robs me of focus. Ten years of it have robbed me of the will even to deal with my own clutter. Does Jesus understand this, too?

Grieving parents have told me He cannot understand what it is to lose a child—but God the Creator lost his first son, Adam, and God the Father sent His only begotten Son to die for us. Paralytics have told me that even Jesus can’t possibly understand what it’s like for them. But on the cross, He was little more able to move than they are. His back, rubbing against rough wood, was as open as the worst bedsore. Elderly men and women have told me that He can’t possibly understand what it’s like to outlive your strength and vitality. But, was He not at the end of His strength when He fell beneath the cross?

I’ve got it! What about trying to live a productive life while overwhelmed with clutter? Surely He, omnipotent God of order, can straighten out any amount of CHAOS* with a word or a wave of His hand.

What about the clutter in the human heart, the human mind? How frustrating it must be for Him to watch us struggle with what none of us can do, when He’s ready to use His endless power for our benefit. But He chooses to live with it. He will not force His way into any heart. Softly knocking, He waits for an invitation.

Then when that invitation comes, stand back! Watch while He rolls up His mighty sleeves and makes the dust fly.

And my own heart, His home? Some heart clutter, I hope no serious competition to Him. But what about the clutter in my mind? I need His hand, for I cannot clear it alone.

Come, Lord Jesus, and still this storm of busyness in me. Prepare Your home in me, and sweep my heart clean. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

*CHAOS: Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome