Waiting

While I busily edit the 52 letters I wrote to our first granddaughter, I wait -- somewhat patiently -- for the arrival of her baby sister. Understand, I'm not nearly as anxious as Becky is, but I sure want to meet this new member of the Wolfe's Den. Since Dave and I live as retirees, when we get the call, we'll head out toward Georgia. I have our bags partially packed and have purchased two new little girl outfits, one for each granddaughter.

Waiting does not come naturally to me.Exodus recalls Moses and Joshua leaving Arron and Hur and telling them to "Wait here until we come back to you." Anyone who had a dispute was supposed to come to the two left waiting and have the matter settled. We know, sadly, what happened. Aaron started crafting the golden calf.Later, the Levitical laws stipulated the time a woman had to wait after childbirth before declared purified. As Joshua prepares to take Jericho, he sends me to wait in ambush between Bethel and Ai. As the new leader, Joshua prod the people into action, asking them "How long will you wait before you begin to take possession of the land that the Lord, the God of your fathers, has given you?"

 Ruth waits by Boaz, King Saul makes sacrifice himself, refusing to wait for Samuel. Also rebellious, Joab says, "I'm not going to wait for you," and then plunges three javelins into Absalom's heart. Job waits for a audience with God and then realizes the folly of his questioning the Almighty. The prophets waited for the Messiah while they preached the message of repentance that fell on deaf ears. During 400 years of silence, Israel suffered, but continued to hope for the coming of Yeshua. Now we look to Revelation, saying, "Maranatha, even so come Lord Jesus."

The psalms give many practical words on the subject of waiting. "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." (Ps 27:14) "We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our hope and our shield." (Ps 33:20) "Wait for the Lord and keep His way." (Ps 37:34) Then there's the confidence in Ps 38:15 when it says, "I wait for you, O Lord; you will answer, O Lord my God." Again, in Ps 130:6, the psalmist affirms "My soul waits for the Lord more than the watchmen wait for the morning." That's hopeful anticipation. These verses show me that waiting takes strength, heart, hope, and confidence.




Whenever I struggle with waiting, I return to Isaiah 30:18 where I see the depth of God's love for me. "Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him." So whether we wait for babies, a new job, a medical diagnosis or for the coming of spring, we wait in the confidence of our God: "I am God, and there is no other; I am God and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, 'My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose."

Editing

Our first granddaughter, born in the summer of 2007, will grow up in the South, most likely in Georgia. Her Grandpa and I lived near Annapolis, but planned to retire in western Maryland. So I knew the distance between us would challenge me. How could I build bridges, create a storehouse of information for her that she could read later in her life? What could she have from me after I had left this world?

My solution grew into a year's worth of letters, written one per week on a Monday, and emailed to her parents. The letters started in July 2007 and ran through her first birthday. My favorite Christmas present in 2008 was the scrapbook Brent and Becky created and gave me. They printed out all 52 letters, added a few photos to the album, and wrapped it in hours of work and love. What a treasure! Someday, I thought, I'd like to publish this book, at least for the family. Maybe I'll get the nerve to search for a publisher.

Much of the content of the letters centers on faith and family. For example, I want her to know the Bible's definition of marriage as a union between one man and one woman until death parts them. I have no idea what her culture will define as marriage twenty or more years from now, but I want her to know that Grandma believed Scripture, not just  about marriage, but about life. So I wrote about obeying her parents, thanking God for the heritage she has in her extended family, about our prayers for her as a covenant child. In my April letters I wrote about the warm yellows of forsythia bushes  and the hyacinths bursting forth in pinks and lavenders. That led me to the Creator of all these beautiful plants.

Family gatherings allowed her to meet her Great Grandma Wolfe, so I told her about this missionary who played the organ, painted, and spoke fluent Japanese in her younger days. And every time I left our granddaughter, my next letter told about the ache in my heart, about the love I have for her. I gave her the family history of her middle name, told her I prayed for her sensitive tummy to get better, for shots not to make her out of sorts. She can't read my letters now, but there's coming a day!

 One goal of my letter writing involves challenging today's grandparents to pass on more than china and silver to the next generation. I call my idea intentional grandparenting. What do you really know about your grandparents? The only information I know about my paternal grandmother is that she sang and had strawberry blond hair like mine. Because she died before my parents even met, I have only seen a hand full of photos of her. How sad.

These days, when he's not out shoveling snow, my husband spends much time researching Wolfe genealogy. One of his best "finds" is a journal written by a relative who watched, the battle between the Monitor and the Merrimack. Yes, people stood on the shore as observers during the Civil War. Another Civil War letter, written by a fellow soldier, tells Dave's paternal great-great grandmother what he knows of her husband's death near Ft. Monroe, Virginia. He describes Albert Weaver as he faced death as one having "a cheerful Christian resignation to the will of God."

I know that technology allows us to Facebook and Twitter one another moment by moment these days, but I still plan two more letter writing projects that will begin this year. One of our sons and his wife expect their second child any day now. Our younger son and his wife expect their first child in August. And, yes, both children will have a year's worth of letters from Grandma Wolfe.

The Winter Project

As a college freshman taking Old Testament Survey, I began to journal. Quite simply, I typed a list of Bible verses at the end of each month, one special verse for each day. The first Christmas Dave and I were married (1968), I wrote our Christmas letter as a story of Li'l Red Riding Hood and the Wolfe. Somehow I didn't think I'd continue yearly editions, so I didn't even save copies of the early letters. Over the years I journaled in fits and starts, but when we moved to the cabin in November 2008, the size of the box marked "journals" surprised me. Someday, I thought, I ought to get those in order and read a bit of history.

A winter that brings over 260 inches of snow makes me tackle crazy, long overdue projects. So, armed with masking tape and a Sharpie, I began to place masking tape on the front of each volume and writing the inclusive dates on each journal. My inauspicious early tomes, now yellow with age in spiral notebooks, gave way to capricious floral covers, fake velvets and stately leather books. I skimmed some volumes and noted particular events of that time period, i.e, Mom's death, or Brent and Becky's engagement. Some days I slowed down the overall project by reading the entire journal. Having accomplished the labeling and tasting of a bit of the writing, these first three impressions surfaced.

Over forty years thousands of prayer requests went before the Lord. I read prayer lists about battles of the flesh, death, disappointment, sins of various types and degrees. Also, I smiled over people's successes, education completed, marriages, babies, finances, people who came to faith in Christ, people who, with God's grace, junked many bad habits. And I laughed about all the prayer requests for cars! Probably because Dave and I worked with College & Career for 8 years,I taught high school students,and had two sons, I prayed countless times for cars that broke down or needed to be replaced. At one point I was convinced that there would be no cars in heaven because Revelation speaks of no tears there! Conclusion: God hears and answers the prayers offered in faith in accordance with His will. We don't just toss words off the ceiling, but we have a most elementary understanding of the One to whom we pray and how He answers. While still very much a child learning to pray, I know God answers. The topic of prayer will find its way into future journals.

Bible reading/studying, even in small snippets, have framed most days of my life. I found the day I first realized the exact meaning of Isaiah 64:6  "all our righteousness is as filthy rags." Exact and graphic! Written hundreds of years ago, Scripture continually infused my life with purpose and meaning. My paraphrases of portions of Scripture recalled special times of communion with Christ. I saw the day the Lord had opened my eyes to new things. Information I had shared in Bible studies for years had a day of personal discovery. Sharper than any two-edged sword, the Bible lives; it shows me truths and won't let me ignore my motivation. God speaks through it whenever I will read and seek the  Holy Spirit's help in understanding and applying it.

Looking over the four decades, I realized life moved at a frantic pace most of the time. I stumbled through experiences, missed the important because of the tyranny of the urgent, and got many things wrong. Too many times in my mother's final months of life, I didn't write about her at all. Yet, God repeatedly  gave me grace. His comfort held me then and He confirmed His love for her and for me in the verses of Scripture I read and the children's Bible songs I sang back to her in the waning hours of her life.

Winter's not over yet here in the mountains of western Maryland, but I've already gleaned three important insights from my journals. Guess I'll keep on reading a bit here and there. God's faithful and I believe nothing in my life has been wasted. I think you'll find the same true in your life as you take inventory over the way God has sovereignly directed your life. Happy winter project!

Flashdrives and God's Sovereignty

When Matt and Julie spent the weekend here in mid-January, we did not have this much snow. However, this photo, taken Sunday afternoon, February 21, shows some of the snowbank created by our record snows this winter. I thought about a modern rendering of the famous painting "American Gothic," and got the idea that the Garrett County winter of 2010 version, might make a cute blog photo. We talked about taking the picture on Saturday when we returned from the Winterfest in Oakland, but the sun was down too low. Sunday morning we leave here early for the 40-minute drive we have to church; thus the photo op didn't happen until shortly before Matt and Julie pulled out and headed home. That's when God's sovereignty and flash drives met.

Julie got home after their January weekend and couldn't find her flash drive. Had she left it here? forgotten it at Brenda's Pizzeria? left it in our Jeep? The information on the drive included a list of wedding guests and their addresses, graduate research papers, and photos. Then there's the entire issue of identity theft. Needless to say, Dave and I looked under beds, around couches, near the keyboard and in the Jeep. Julie called the restaurant and I asked our pastor's wife if anyone had discovered a flash drive at church or in the Sunday School room. The drive was nowhere to be found, so Julie and Matt began to recreate their guest list. And we all prayed for the lost to be found.

But time passed and snow fell. Dave and I returned from Florida on February 13, and happily, one neighbor had plowed our long, steep driveway while another neighbor had shoveled a narrow path into the backdoor.We nestled in and watched it snow more virtually every day. Dave's daily routine involved about two hours of shoveling and Pat used the scoop on his tractor to lift the snow onto banks that grew to almost ten feet in height. Yet, for some reason, when Julie and Matt came back February 19, we thought the flash drive might show up. At least Matt and Julie tried to get back here. When they were only about a mile away, Dave went to retrieve them and get their car parked back down our mountain.

In Luke 12, Jesus asks, “Are not five sparrows sold for two cents? Yet not one of them is forgotten before God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows." Wow! We see a modern example of the God who counts the hairs on our head. He had been watching out for that flash drive. At photo time, as Matt walked across the driveway, now amazingly down to the wet, black gravel, he saw Julie's flash drive lying there on the ground. Not scooped up by the tractor or shoveled into woods, but there in plain sight. As Matt and Dave assessed the drive, they agreed that a few days of drying out and all the information should be available. Doubt God's sovereign on the smallest details of our lives? Not me.

The Storehouses of the Snow

When Job demanded an audience with God, the Lord responded with His own inquiries starting in chapter 38: "Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said: 'Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.'" The questions posed, and there are whole chapters of questions, confirm that our ways and our thoughts are not His! One question God posed to Job has captured my imagination this winter. “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow..."

The locals tell us that Garrett County, site of our cozy log cabin, has already recorded 205 inches of snow this winter. So while I have no idea what the "storehouses of snow" must look like, I'll try to show you a bit of the beauty of the pristine snow falls we ahve experienced here, and praise God for His beauty. The large mound to the left of the Jeep is our Mercury Sable. The small lump to the left of the Sable is Dave's ATV!

The beauty and serenity of the stately evergreens and the icy flow of Bear Creek frame the life we now know in retirement. And we give God thanks for living in the midst of His beauty, His presence, His peace.

Hospitality, Miami Style

When our son Bryan suggested we come to Miami to see some of his soccer team's games in late January, none of us realized the chosen time for its impact on housing. January 28-Feb 6, intersected the Pro Bowl weekend and included our spending the week leading up to the Super Bowl, both held this year in Miami. On top of this, Bryan and Stacey actually live in Honolulu now and have rented their condo here. Bryan has a room with another teacher and his folks. Then the blizzards of 2010 hit BWI airport and extended our stay in Florida. Needless to say, our budget had no plans quite like this! Then a family from Westminster Christain offered us two bedrooms (in case Bryan wanted to stay here with us) in their beautiful 6-bedroom home. So I went out to read and relax in the above surroundings!

Scripture talks about hospitality from the directive in Romans 12, "Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality," to the commendation give to Gaius, "whose hospitality I and the whole church here enjoy." In I Timothy, Paul, in listing good deeds of widows, mentions "Showing hospitality," and Peter speaks of offering hospitality to one another without grumbling." This dear family has even shared their pets with us. The yellow lab, Shania, and Elvis, the friendly cat who likes it when I read to her (OK, so it should be Elvira), seem to enjoy the extra attention they get from us. We are so grateful for God's provision for us through them. Thanks to Jack, Adele, Chuck and Jillian for all your kindnesses to us

With Thanks for My Girls

Happily, none of the in-law jokes apply to my dear daughters-in-law. Brent married Becky over a decade ago, and their Little Stuff will gain a baby sisiter in a few weeks. Stacey celebrates her birthday tomorrow and will hopefully, soon not experience morning sickness all day long! Bryan finishes the soccer season here in Miami later this month and will fly to Honolulu so he and Stacey can celebrate their seventh anniversary together on March 1. They expect their first child in August. I know how graciously the Lord has dealt with me, and I give HIm thanks.

As I've read through the burnt, grain, fellowship and sin offerings described in Leviticus, I looked at Lev 22:2 "Tell Aaron and his sons to treat with respect the sacred offerings the Israelites consecrate to me, so they will not profane my holy name. I am the Lord." In very practical terms, how do I treat with respect these lovely women the Lord brought into our family? For me, part of the answer to that parallels my personal growth as a believer in Christ. Colossians 2:6 says, "So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness."

Too often, family strife erupts when our own spiritual life languishes. When we concentrate on growing up into Christ, we pray instead of meddle. Remember the Genesis foundation for marriage, that a man was to leave his parents, cleave to his wife, and the two will become one flesh? That means our children's marriages are theirs. Don't stew about decisions that the next generation makes. Pray for their ever-growing relationship to Christ and to each other. Pray for selfishness to be less important in our lives rather than telling family members they should be less self-centered. Recite to the Lord His gracious promises about the strengthening our faith provides. Finally, as per Col 2:6, overflow with thankfulness. Keep looking for the things that make you overflow with thankfulness rather than reciting a litany of grousing.

So Happy Birthday, Stacey. Thanks to you and Becky for giving me a waterfall of thankfulness as my daughters-in-love.

Florida Highlights

While Bryan goes off to work each day, Dave and I craft adventures here in Miami. Dave and I, house guests of a WCS family, headed to Homestead yesterday to discover the faming areas of south Florida. Our first stop took us to the Knaus Berry Farm's bakery, famous for its sticky buns. Needless to say, several folks from here placed orders for us to pick up! Dave then decided that we should share a milk shake from Robert Is Here to complete our breakfast. Robert, who began selling cucumbers in 1960, now sells fruits and vegetables along with an array of fresh-made milkshakes! Dave chose a key lime milk shake to complete the decadent breakfast!

Following the Redland Trail through the agricultural area, Dave stopped next at RF Orchids. The hostess greeted us with a cup of guava juice that we sipped as we walked through the artistic displays of orchids and bronze garden statues that far eclipsed our pocketbook! The color, delicacy, intricacy and even fragrance of orchids boggle my mind. Given the wonders of just one kind of flower reminds me of God's plethora of designs. No Creator? Impossible to comprehend!

We finished our day at Florida International University's soccer field where we saw the Westminster Christian guys play in the regional quarter final game and defeat Florida Christian 5-0. Do I miss the snow? What snow?

Tired of the Being Bad Hype

Luke 7: 44-47 presents a story that I find difficult. "Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, 'Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.'” Why difficult? Because we all have sinned, and when we realize our need and Christ's provision, we love deeply, for we see we have all been forgiven much. 

Yet, somehow the more spectacular conversion stories get labeled as 'real' while the rest of us get lumped into a category called boring conversion stories. I have actually lived this! At a faculty gathering many years ago, the hostess wanted one of us to share how we came to faith in Jesus. She stole a cursory glance at me and then said, "No, not you, You're story is boring." My sin, while not cast in the Anne Lamott mold, certainly qualifies me as a needy sinner. Actually, as I think of it, my Dad understood this back in the 50s and made it painfully clear to me. At that time church activities for teens involved taking a group to hear some ex-criminal's electrifying testimony. A foreign language would have communicated to me more clearly than Jim Voss' story did. Syndicated crime, and wire taps didn't mirror my life in rural New York. Anyway, after one such youth rally, I made the mistake of hinting to my Dad that I had, perhaps, not been bad enough yet to have turned to Jesus. With all his Dutch ire, he told me straight out, "In being born you were sinful enough to need Christ." Immediately, Dad put a moritorium on my future trips to hear such testimonies!

Experiencing forgiveness for abortions, drug addiction, eating disorders, theft, affairs, and other traumas allows a new convert to marvel at the love and grace offered in Jesus' salvation. But all humans soon discover that sin manifests itself in thoughts, words and deeds. The thought and word sins debilitate too, even if they're not as visible as the deeds.

The older I get, the more I thank God for the gift of life He extended to me through Jesus' sacrifice on my behalf. I also have grown to thank Him for not taking me through all the sins I could have wallowed in through the years. After all, I am a child of the 60s, and I still struggle with sin every day. I just get tired of the hype or supposed super validity of the bad. All of us know the authenticity of our dark sins and truly thank God for His unspeakable gift of love and mercy.

Thoughts on Prayer

Francis Bacon said, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested." Right now I am chewing on C.S. Lewis' Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. Pen in hand, I underline, pause to think, write cryptic notes in the margins, and stop to pray.

Lewis speaks of trying to pray "without words at all -- if one can really achieve it." I wonder if that relates to Brother Lawrence's The Practice of the Presence of God. Sadly, I have tried Lawrence's ideas only to fall flat on my face before 9AM. The clutter of my mind clogs the prominence of Christ all too quickly. My thoughts wander, I repeat words, phrases, ideas. When my prayers sound rote, I turn to Valley of Vision, the collected prayers of Puritan writers. Their precise language, sense of personal sin, and God's offer of marvelous mercy deepen my appreciation of God's grace. Somehow, my prayers gain more of a God-ward direction. I "grocery shop" my lists less often. I sit quietly and consider the awe and majesty due His name.

I don't want floating prayers that arise from my ideas, imagination or emotions, but I want to engage mind and spirit supported by the relationship Christ initates with me. Why? I have lived through times of using words or acronyms that became repetition that morphed into formulas. Christians desire to develop a deepening prayer life. one that truly communes with the Lord. But how is prayer done in holiness and to the glory of God? When I ask such quesitons, I align my plight with the  disciples who asked Jesus, "Lord, teach us to pray."

My quest continues as I also ask the Lord to teach me to pray. While Lewis' ideas help, the Scriptures themselves guide. As I read the Bible, sound doctrine leads me. For today, that's enough to ground me as I talk to the Lord and take the time to listen to Him speak as the living Word speaks.

Birthday Blessings

Birthdays and family go together in my mind, so living so far from each is often hard for me. Yet in 2009, I got to spend my birthday with Brent, Becky and Little Stuff. Today, Dave and I are celebrating my birthday in Miami with Bryan. We're also here watching the guys' soccer team at Westminster Christian. They won their district championship on Friday and play in the regional quarter final game on Thursday. While Maryland digs out after the snow storm, Bryan, his dad and I can enjoy the overcast skies but 70-degree weather. The gift of family and friends outshines any other gift. 

After worship together today, seven of us, including friends from Bryan and Stacey's small group, went to lunch at the Titanic, a Miami microbrewery, similar to Ram's Head in Annapolis.  We know all these friends and enjoyed a great lunch after church.

My personal reading for today took

me to Psalm 21-25.  In addition to the beloved Shepherd's psalm and the psalm of Christ's agony on the cross (22),  I honed in on Psalm 25. "Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. Remember, O Lord, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old." That seems like a great birthday card from the Lord. I ask that this year the Lord may continue to show, teach, and guide me. The beautiful assurance I have from asking Him lies in the hope He gives me in His mercy and love.

Traveling Light

Fifteen months ago Dave and I started downsizing as we planned our move to the cabin. Truth be told, we still need to have a huge yard sale in Arnold this spring to continue the process. After having lived in that same house for thirty years, stuff apparently grew, especially in the basement. I faced the problem again today when I began to pack for a 10-day trip to Miami. Wanting only carry-on luggage, we packed, unpacked, and repacked, all in an effort to get everything into two small suitcases, my purse and the computer case.                                                                                                            It seems to make sense to travel light in other areas of life too. What about the emotions that we can carry with us as excess baggage? People may hurt us, speak badly of us, injure us, but all without malice. We really aren't always careful in dealings with other folks. Our clumnisiness or insensitivity can do so much harm. So in my packing, I need to stop swinging the words and actions around without thinking about those I may hit. But as well as hurting others, we've also been the recipients of others' hurts. Have we taken inventory lately? And after the assessment, are we willing to jettison some debilitating emotions and travel light?

Scripture speaks, telling us to "Put away" and "Get rid of" a variety of baggage: pride, lust, anger, bitterness, rage, slander, hatred, discord, jealousy, selfish ambition, impurity, witchcraft, and as Paul summarises in Ephesians 5, "along with every form of malice." As I think back over my own life and the lives of those I've counseled, I think we'd all do well to think about getting rid of baggage and traveling light. When I carry the emotional baggage Scripture speaks of, I harm myslef and I bang into others around me. How long will someone's comment to me or treatment toward me jade my life? I have found that allowing my mind to replay those hurtful incidents adds more baggage. I found that telling the Lord, rather than retelling the tale to other friends and family allowed God to pry my fingers off the pain. "Take my yoke upon you and learn of Me," provided wise counsel. I even told one friend we could get together but a particular topic was off limits. Amazing things happened. We branched into topics related to our families, our own spiritual areas of growth and emerging interests. We laughed more when together and gained a lighter heart. Life's too short to stop talking to friends and family members over something that neither of you can really remember clearly. And if the baggage comes from habits of jealousy or anger, that weight pins us physically, emotionally and spiritually. Packing for a simple trip made me think of things I've shuffled off and things that don't need to contniue with me in this life journey any longer.   

Cherish Being Forgiven

On this snowy day,  I have just finished reading a novel dealing with abortion and an article dealing with divorce. The whiteness outside reminds me of Isaiah's words, "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow."  No wonder I have forgiveness on my mind today.

When I think of my counseling years, I remember the deep pain for those involved in both abortion and divorce. When reconciliation doesn't occur, slipping into anger, resentment, bitterness and judgment come all too easily for us. And when these emotions demand center stage on our heart, we engage in a powerful spiritual battle.

To square off biblically, we must make a choice to put away any and all debilitating baggage. Colossians 3 says, "But now you must rid yourselves of..." Galatians 4 talks about returning to weak and miserable principles and asks, "Do you wish to be enslaved by them all over again?" I Peter 2:11 says, "I urge you as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires which war against your soul." And the writer of Hebrews reminds us of Jesus' example. "Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." The work, and make no mistake, it is work, of choosing to put away pride, resentment, bitterness, shame, anger, and judgments requires consistency, prayer and dying to self. One thing that helps us in the daily assults involves NOT reciting a litany of personal griefs to others, but taking those hurts to God Himself. As we tell our heartaches to the Lord, we learn to cherish more deeply what it is to be forgiven by God.

After we read the list of "get rid ofs" in Ephesians 4:31, we must think about the depth of forgiveness God graciously granted us. "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." A quote from John Piper helps us put this in perspective: "You can go on holding a grudge if your faith simply means you are off the hook. But if faith means standing in awe of being forgiven by God, then you can't go on holding a grudge. You have fallen in love with mercy. It's your life."

As we daily make choices to put away the attitudes that hold us captive, and meditate on the depth of grace that has, through Christ's shed blood, forgiven us everything, we pray for an increase in trust. God cannot be pleased when we hold to our hurts or judgments. When we do, we really convey that we don't trust His justice to prevail. Romans 12:19 couldn't state it more clearly. "It is mine to avenge; I will repay." We may want to pound the gavel and insist on our pound of flesh and our timetable, but God plainly tells us to allow room for His wrath. And as that process known as sanctification kneads itself into our soul, we begin to trust that God's purpose in all the hurt or embarrassment of the situation has been to transform the most difficult, ugliest parts of our life into something for our good and His glory. The griefs from the trials "have come so that your faith -- of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire -- may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." I Peter 1:7

Seeing Through the Fog

I looked into the pea soup of fog out the kitchen door and snapped the photo. The weather seemed to capture the lost clarity of January: Haiti's tragic earthquakes, people laid off work, hearts seemingly harden to God's call, husbands and wives struggling with their wedding vows. After a  friend moved to Arizona, he found his SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) greatly relieved by the sunshine that blankets that state. Meanwhile, we in this area seem to live in the grey of winter.

Winter needs encouragement from sources outside the weather, or depression can steal in as quietly and pervasively as the fog. So how do we read -- and live -- beyond the written "moans" of Facebook and Twitter statuses? beyond the anguish of Haitian survivors' images on CNN and Fox? beyond the possibilities of a lost home or marriage? So often, the perspective of hope, once infused into a situation, melts the fog. No, not instantly, but the murky clouds start to lift.

We watched victims of the earthquakes sing and praise God they were alive, recovery teams from a myriad of countries working tirelessly to free survivors buried in rubble for over a week; tired but smiling Haitian orphans arrive in Pittsburgh. With each individual found alive, each rescue worker offered water, or each piece of red tape cut so children could leave Haiti and be adopted by parents here in America, the fog lifted a bit. Even closer to home, we may observe a couple beginning to work on their marriage or extended family making provision for those without work or a place to live. The sun may only wink from behind the clouds breifly, but the fog dissipates a bit more. True hope lies in looking up and catching sight of the Son as the hope we need most. Perhaps the fog descended just so we would look up.

Monday Meditation

Our pastor continued his "Battling Unbelief" sermon series yesterday, talking for a second week about bitterness. When attitudes such as anger, bitterness, anxiety, pride, shame, or impatience cripple a believer, a key to healing lies in taking a biblical pill. The often hard-to-swallow medicine allows Scripture to illuminate an area where we battle unbelief. Every belief we hold dear jumps off the inert page of ideas or facts in our head and lives in the appetites of our hearts. Either we fasten these appetites to Christ in a quest for satisfaction or  turn from Christ to seek satisfaction in someone or something else.
For example, when pride subdues us, we exemplify a deep form of unbelief. We really turn from God and seek satisfaction in self. Maslow's pyramid calls us to self-determination and a self-exaltation that dates back to Eden.  James 4:6-8 teaches that the opposite of pride involves submitting to God. The fight for humility does not mean beating up on self in a series of self-deprecating verbal or physical blows. We engage in a battle with the wisdom of the full scope of Scripture. Romans 12:3 gives us a balanced weapon for the battle. " For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: 'Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you'." Sober judgment involves the measure of faith God has given.
Anxiety often rides in tandem to pride. Pride does not want to admit anxiety: stress perhaps, but not anxiety. But I Peter 5:7 teaches me this: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." We can now begin to cherish the privilege of fellowship with God, the One who asks us to cast stress, cares, anxities, all on Him. Beginning to avail myself of the When we have a relationship with Christ, by grace, we can admit the need for help. Pride will not, cannot do this. In this battle with unbelief, we begin to see that real faith loves for God to be God. Jeremiah 13:15-16 reminds us: "Hear and pay attention, do not be arrogant, for the LORD has spoken. Give glory to the LORD your God before he brings the darkness, before your feet stumble on the darkening hills."
We can take heart whether the current struggle involves our pride, anxiety, covetousness or any other fallout from our broken world. Seeing the battle as one of unbelief sends us back to the captain of our souls, the one who can arm us because He is the prefecter of our faith.

Heart for Haiti

This morning my eyes moved from Fox's TV images of Port-au-Prince to my digital frame photos of Stacey and Bryan when they went to Haiti last year on a medical trip to the photo I took when trying to bring Little Stuff home with us after Christmas!
 Thanks to technology, we have received word that the missionaries we know who currently serve in Haiti have escaped injury from the devastating earthquake that rocked PAP on Tuesday evening. Initially, two women from our church's college and career group went to serve as missionaries in Haiti. Although we haven't journeyed to Haiti in years, a part of Dave's heart has stayed in that island nation since he first visited with Jerry McFarland in 1987. Dave and I returned in 1988 so I could experience malaria first hand; we made later, healthier trips; and Dave took each of our sons on his own father-son mission trip to Haiti. Our first two missionary friends introduced us to others serving in PAP, among them, a single woman from Ohio who chose to adopt 12 Haitian children, and an American music teacher whose Creole fluency amazed us. He and one of the missionaries eventually married each other and have stayed in Haiti. More recently, one of my former students, his family, and parents work at the Baptist Mission.
Even before a 7.0 earthquake hit, Haitian life represented chaos and deprivation. Since all education is private and costly, illiteracy abounds, as does disease, superstition, vodoo, and poverty. My heart aches for the people of Haiti, and my Irish ire fumes when I hear people say that Haiti deserved this judgment from God. When leaders of Jesus' day tried to trap Him, he told a bit of history about the tower in Siloam. As Luke 13 records it, Jesus faced those who quickly wanted to access blame for a catastrophic event. "Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered, 'Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. Of those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.'” Obviously, Jesus' message warned each listener to take inventory of his own soul and not to judge others' circumstances. As always, Jesus' wisdom speaks to every age.

Expediency Over Faith

I've just finished reading the life of Abraham, as told by Moses in Genesis 12-25. Repeatedly, expediency dictated the patriach's choices. Shortcutting God's promise of an heir, Abraham took Sarah's bad advice to have a son by Hagar, her handmaiden. After all, God had promised to give Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars, and at the tender age of  99, he remained childless. The resulting two offspring, Ishmael and Issac, founded the Arabs and the Jews respectively, two nations that live as enemies to this day On two occasions, with two different kings, Abraham tried to pass Sarah off as his sister instead of his wife. Even though the ruse failed the first time, he used it again. Repeating a sin --something I can surely relate to in my life.

Reading of Abraham's failure to learn brings more than a knowledge of biblical history. When I gear myself up for a quest that has to happen in my time frame, I often run a muck! Whether the issue involves the time to start a family, complete a degree, change jobs, have surgery, or retire, I too often grab control rather than depend on God's sovereignty. According to the dictionary, expediency "usually implies what is immiediately advantageous without regard for ethics or consistent principles." Perhaps I'd do well to look at God's creation this snowy winter and realize that nothing I do changes the rate at which He melts the snow. I may have plans, meetings to attend, doctor's appointments scheduled, but He asks me to simply have faith that He has all things in His sovereign control. Then, instead of manipulating things for the sake of expediency, I can trust that He does all things in His time. Like Abraham, I still have lots to learn.

Nestled in This Winter

Out for his afternoon walk to the mailbox, Dave took this photo of our log cabin nestled in about three feet of fresh snow. The majesty, soft beauty and frigid temperatures lure Dave outside and keep me inside. The heat generated from the logs in our two gas fireplaces keeps me comfortable. The invigorating winds and natural beauty attract Dave's attention outdoors. Having the two worlds available works for us both! Have you ever thought about where you nestle in or what makes you secure and comforted? I first looked outside when I considered the question. The cardinal in the photo seemed nestled down in this snowy branch too. He posed for several pictures, absolutely unaware of the camera inside the house.

I think that the comfort of nestling comes best when I settle into a steady reading of scripture. The solidity of biblical truths always sustains me despite the current circumstances  in my life. And God faithfully shows me things I've missed in other readings. This year I have decided to use the ESV and read three chapters six days of the week and five chapters on Sundays. A cross reference today took me from Genesis to Joshua to establish that Abraham's father worshipped idols. Abraham did not begin his life nestled in a God-fearing home. Yet God called him, and, in faith, Ahram believed God. Why not nestle into the Bible this year and read? No great comfort exists!

More on Music and Rests

Each January we all probably tackle clutter somewhere --in the house, the mind, the garage. While I edited my Christmas card list on this snowy Friday, I ame across a get well card I'd saved from my summer 2007 surgery. A friend had sought out this quote and copied it into the card. The wisdom of Ruskin's comments again gave me pause. Perhaps you'll take the time to ponder the words and allow the Lord to apply them to your current circumstances.

Quoted by Elisabeth Elliott from John Ruskin:


“There is no music in a rest, but there is the making of music in it. In our whole life-melody, the music is broken off here and there by ‘rests,’ and we foolishly think we have come to the end of time. God sends a time of forced leisure –sickness, disappointed plans, frustrated efforts – and makes a sudden pause in the choral hymn of our lives and we lament that our voices must be silent, and our part missing in the music which ever goes up to the ear of the creator. How does the musician read the rest? See him bet time with unwavering count and catch up the next note true and steady, as if no breaking place had come between. Not without design does God write the music of our lives. But be it ours to learn the time and not be dismayed at the ‘rests.’ They are not to be slurred over, not to be omitted, not to destroy the melody, not to change the keynote. If we look up, God Himself will beat time for us. With the eye on Him, we shall strike the next note full and clear.”

It Wasn't a Silent Night

On December 23, Little Stuff got the bug of '09 as she, Grandpa and I drove to Augusta; she promptly  unloaded her previous meals, snacks  and juices all over inside the Jeep. Grandpa managed to find a safe spot to pull off the road, and we began using the paper towels for the mop up operation. I held a shivering, sobbing little girl in my arms as I stripped her down and changed her into warm clothes. Grandpa used layers of towels to make the car seat a decent place to sit because we still had 45 minutes to go on our trip.

Following the domino effect, I got the bug next, and Gran Davenport had it by Christmas afternoon. What do you do when months of expectations for a Georgia family gathering from Massachussetts, Maryland, and Hawaii collide with the flu? Readjust! At various stages of the blah's, we all manage to get to the 5 PM candlelight service and then on to the Japanese restaurant, a family tradition on Christmas Eve. Some of us enjoyed small bites of only white rice that night, but we all were there. We arrived home and saw an empty manger that Gran Davenport had created. The next morning. we all saw this baby doll and talked about Jesus' birthday.

As I thought about feeling lousy as a result of a simple "bug," I considered the fact that Mary probably suffered terribly, crying out as her labor pains came, not in a hospital, but amid the cold night air. A frist delivery in a hostile environment -- no midwife there to bring her aid and comfort. No, it was anything but a silent night where all was calm. It was, however, a labor of love, as the God of the universe became one of us, to live and die for His called children....and that amazing love will always be the hallmark of Christmas.