Monday Meditation

Patches of sunlight sent me looking for my camera this morning despite the 32-degree reading on the thermometer at 10 AM. It didn't take a meteorologist to describe today as "crisp and clear." What appears as fog or mist in the photo at the right is actually a flooding of sunlight into our side yard. Sometimes the truths of God's Word, His promises, and His love totally embrace me. Other times, in my rebellious soul, I turn the other way, clutching to false idols of my heart's making. When I cannot see clearly, I can learn to trust the Sonlight that shines with grace and mercy. Unfortunately, my learning curve lags lethargically.

I live a battle of the will to walk by faith and not by sight. Yesterday I had no schedule for arriving back here from Severna Park, but I still battled within myself about making a stop in Mt. Airy to Lorien Nursing Center, just minutes off Interstate 70. A friend resides there, languishing in the last stages of MS. Would I stop or not? At the last minute, and probably aided by the fact that I was in the right lane, I pulled off and went inside for a short visit. As I approached the parking lot, I immediately remembered that the handicapped parking put me at the opposite end of the facility. I would walk right, enter the building, and then walk left through a long hallway to Barbara's room.

Why the stalling? What troubled me? Didn't I appreciate all the folks who have visited me and aided in my recoveries? How different would Barbara be now? Once signed in, I navigated my way along and greeted those I met. My brief visit lifted my spirits as Barbara smiled and mouthed thank you.

Today, in retrospect, I wish my motives had clarity of purpose. The questions I posed yesterday offer a very shallow, self-centered perspective. Barbara's current status now sends me to the Lord, asking for His call home to come to my friend soon. Yet I ponder my need to trust Christ more, knowing that even when my view looks blurred, it's only because of His brilliant sunshine streaming into life's real situations.

Imitation

My husband has sprouted quite a beard since his November 2008 retirement. Its snowy whiteness and increasing length have garnered a number of stares. Remarks from older church ushers as well as younger children have linked Dave to Santa Claus. Earlier this summer two children entering Chik-Fil-A spotted Dave and softly questioned each other saying, "Ho, Ho?" In a recent bubble bath, our granddaughter even imitated Grandpa with her own version of a beard. Clever, eh? We find it endearing when children desire to mimic those they love.
How much our Heavenly Father must love it when we imitate the attributes He treasures: love joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, just to pull from Paul's list in Galatians 5. Moving from a legalistic "I ought," that seeks to earn God's favor or aims to pridefully receive the praises of men, to a heart response of "I truly take joy in my Father," involves sanctification. Measuring the motives of the heart takes brutal honesty, the type the Puritans often displayed in their confessional prayers. The skill in burning away the dross from my heart takes me time and quiet. The Bible's admonition to "Be still and know that I am God," allows the Holy Spirit to purify the imitating I do of my Heavenly Father. And I want that for His glory and my good.