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.