How They Loved Me

I love to personalize scripture and hymns. May not be correct or right or legal, but I like to do it. I love to speak the words of the Psalmist or hear the words of God spoken to me. Not the same situation, not the same time, not the same promise, but oh how I love hearing the words. This is "my" version of Psalms 91.

Psalm 91
1Whoever lives under the shelter of the Most High
will remain in the shadow of the Almighty.
2I will say to the LORD,
“You are my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.”
3He is the one who will rescue me from hunters’ traps
and from deadly plagues.
4He will cover me with his feathers,
and under his wings I will find refuge.
His truth is my shield and armor.
5I do not need to fear
terrors of the night,
arrows that fly during the day,
6plagues that roam the dark,
epidemics that strike at noon.
7They will not come near me,
even though a thousand may fall dead beside me
or ten thousand at me right side.
8I only have to look with your eyes
to see the punishment of wicked people.
9You, O LORD, are my refuge!
You have made the Most High your home.
10No harm will come to me.
No sickness will come near my house.
11He will put his angels in charge of me
to protect me in all my ways.
12They will carry me in their hands
so that I never hit my foot against a rock.
13I will step on lions and cobras.
I will trample young lions and snakes.
14Because I love Him, He will rescue me.
He will protect me because I know His name.
15When I call to Him, He will answer me.
He will be with me when I am in trouble.
He will save me and honor me.
16He will satisfy me with a long life.
He will show me how He will save me.

I prepared this Psalm for this Sunday's lesson. I diced and sliced. Read about the meanings of all those words not as common now as then. How their perception of might is right and evil loses though not entirely accurate was their way of looking and dealing with God.

Early Sunday morning, I took a walk at the neighborhood track. It is located in a great field with a glorious view of sunrise or sunset, depending on the time of day. I was there for the morning show and it was absolutely beautiful. I more or less told God I was just there to listen. To the beauty, to His Words in the Psalms, and any extra commentary He wanted to throw in there. I walked and walked, tossing the scripture around. Thinking how my relationship with God had changed during my life. How the very words of the Psalms had meant so many things during each stage of living.

As I started to impart my words of wisdom and discernment about His Psalms, He stopped me somehow. It was not audible, not in anyway. But God has a habit of stopping me mid sentence. I think it is the only way He can get a word in edgewise.
He said "It was how they loved me" It was not a doctrine of theology, it was a man's expression in the best way he knew to tell the world what God meant to Him.

I could pare away at it or I could just glory in the beauty of those verses. I could join him or her in the depths of their love for our mutual Father. Sing the song with him, for Him. Wow!

My Hiding Place

When I was young, I was greatly moved and formed in a way by the book "The Hiding Place" by Corrie Ten Boom. She, her father, and her sister hid Jews during WWII. They were arrested and imprisoned at the concentration camp Ravensbruck. Only Corrie survived the time there and she went on to become a missionary to the world, fairly late in her life.

I read it at a time when anxiety and worry were the mainstay of my life. The idea of this woman, living in such horrible conditions, with only death and despair surrounding her - finding a place of peace. A place where she could dwell with God - a sanctuary, a hiding place - amidst the evil. Maybe that is why Psalms 91 is one of my favorites...

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!"

For a young woman, afraid of her own shadow, I needed that shelter, that shadow, that refuge and fortress. I saw it in a home to live in, money stretching to the end of the month, car repairs that cost $50 instead of $500. All gifts from God, all signs of this protection, this refuge.

As I lived my life, I was somewhat confused about the difficulties life brought. I saw incredible Christians experience and survive some of the most horrible of events.
I became somewhat shaky in my belief, but still held firm. After a "horrible" event of my own, I changed.

I realized that the dwelling place was not lack of trouble, but a zone smack dab in the middle of it. Sitting outside in the cardiac care waiting room as my husband struggled for his life day in and day out, I realized it was a form of spiritual shock. A protection not from the pain, but my companion through the pain. As I spent a year nursing him day and night, He was my mind's filter. Not allowing me to think one thought beyond what He had given me strength to deal with.

I long to feel that again, but I do not long for the situation that made it imperative. As Christians, the "zone" is our dwelling place. If we will just step inside and rest within the wings, the arms that are greater than ours. My prayer for you and I is that we will take advantage of a gift so precious, so available, ours! Please Father, help me to see it, feel it, and live within it day by day.
Amen

More Tim

Testify!!

Don't hear that much anymore. Don't know why. I remember traveling on lay witness missions as a youth. I would give my testimony, all the time secretly hoping I had a little juicier one. Like a Hells Angel who saw their wicked way and came to Jesus! Much more dramatic.

In this verse from Timothy, Paul is doing just that. He is literally testifying to the love of God in his life.

However, I was treated with mercy because I acted ignorantly in my unbelief.


Father forgive them, for they know not what they do. How powerful is that statement. How exciting. That is what the world is waiting to hear. You are a prostitute - I can make you white as snow. You are a murderer - let me wash your hands. You are disfigured - you are beautiful in my sight.

Everyone you know wants to hear that. Daily we struggle under the secular messages of this world. You are too young. You are too old. You are too inexperienced. You are over-qualified. You are too fat. You are too thin.

So why is it so hard for us to say?

Trust

Trust is something hard to come by and almost impossible to regain. It is taking a flying leap into someone's arms. Hoping that their honesty and integrity are solid enough to catch your trust in them. When they let you fall, it is hard to try again. You remember the pain too well.

I thank Christ Jesus our Lord that he has trusted me and has appointed me to do his work with the strength he has given me. 1Timothy 1:12


Paul's persecution of the Jews in his earlier life was something many folks could not get over. I think I would personally have had trouble meeting with him, much less accepting him into my group. I think "trust" was the one thing he was ever grateful to Christ Jesus for extending to him. If anyone deserved "not" to be given a chance, it was Paul. If there was anyone less likely to trust, it was Paul. Yet Christ Jesus put not only His trust but the lives of early Christians and the church in his bloodstained hands. Wow!

But the second part of the statement is what blows me away. "He has appointed me to do his work with the strength he has given me". I think it would be better said, "And I have finally realized that the job He has given me can be only done in his strength"

In our lives, it is not always that we are too weak to do the task. I think sometimes we are too strong. We take the fragile balance of life and we tip it over. We take the delicacy of human relationships and we stomp them. We take the china parlor of His love and like a bull charge through destroying all in our way. Sometimes the things we do are more a stumbling block "in the way" of what He means for us to do.

In the name of God? I wonder.

When Old Meets New

I have a dear friend that co-taught my Sunday adult class for many years. He was an excellent teacher, we had complementary styles. Bringing more questions to the table than answers. He was loved by everyone, kids and youth especially

I frequent a local coffee shop in the morning, before work. Kind of my sit and think place before hitting that crazy, tell you what it is world. On two different occasions I have seen him sitting there with a young man at least 20 years his junior. My friend is a successful businessman and fine Christian and I discovered that he mentors young men in our community this way. I teasingly asked him what he was up to - he said it kept him young.

I can imagine Paul being much like that with Timothy. Older, wiser - one coming to the end of the journey sharing what he knew and believed with one just starting his. From associated writings and history, it is felt that Timothy was not fatherless, but his father did not play an important religious role in his life. His mother Eunice and grandmother Lois were strong Christians and from them young Tim received his spiritual legacy.

Second to sitting at the feet of Jesus, I would have liked to have heard Paul. Amidst all his bravado, conviction, and correction it must have been like sitting near a powerhouse of spiritual energy. No wonder Timothy was attracted.

It Just Keeps On Giving

Yesterday my grandson and I went to the museum. He "loves" science and I am ever ready to stir the flames of a 10 year old interest in something other than video games.

Of course no trip to the museum would be complete without a trip to the museum store. A few polished rocks were selected and then he saw it. The giant Pixy Stix. It was a 3' plastic tube of mouth-watering delight to be created. I say that, because you were able to select the flavor of powdered dextrose you wanted to fill it with. Of course, we had to have some of each. Extremely disappointed when the root beer was stuck and would not pour. A day later, he is still working on it. Conveniently hidden from his grandmother because he knows how much I love sour stuff. I could wipe out an entire flavor layer without batting an eye!

The scripture from Timothy this Sunday was just like that. Mouth-watering. Just chock full of good stuff. In fact I think I gave my class a little spiritual indigestion yesterday. So, I will not make the same mistake twice. I will give it to you in a few more bites.

The letters to Timothy have always been some of my favorites. Many of the epistles had little to say to me as a child or youth, but Timothy has grown with me. Like a pair of pants with a seam that could be let out and let out and let out. When I was a youth and overwhelmed with the faith I professed the the faith I lived, I read Timothy and felt loved and special. As a young adult working side by side some of the patriarchs of our church, I felt capable. And as a mentor to young women in my last few years, I have gained wisdom. A scripture for all seasons of life.

Have you ever had someone look up to you? It is a scary feeling. Lots of pressure to live up to their unreasonable expectations. Afraid to let them see the foibles and defects you possess. I can even remember the light fading in one young woman's eyes when I told her some of the escapades of my youth. I could almost see my pedastal crumble. But after the dust settled, I was on her level and our relationship took on new meaning.

This is where Paul takes a flying leap off the lofty heights of his. He lays down the dirt on who he was and what he did. Took a lot of guts. It is a "tell all", but I think it reveals more of the love Paul had for Timothy. Timothy's spiritual maturity was more important than his perception of Paul.

That is enough for today. We will chew some more on the next blog entry..

Chewing your Cud

Ever watch a cow chew their cud. I spent alot of my weekends, growing up, on my grandparents farm in East Texas. They raised cattle and when I was young, I was fascinated watching them chew their cud. They chew with their mouths open, so they have this slimy green mess in and around their lips. Contented cows chew their cud for about 8 hours a day. They graze and then regurgitate a bolus or cud and chew on it.

Not very appetizing, but that is the way I study scripture. I teach a class of adults every Sunday and I enjoy using the lectionary to pick the scripture. It seemed even when I didn't try, the preacher and I usually matched on topic or scripture (God thing) so I decided to try to do it, giving the folks in my class the opportunity to "chew" and discuss what they had heard in service. I don't always pick the same scripture now (gospel, epistle, Psalm, Old Testament readings each week) but it is fun to read and chew on the scripture the week long. I used to study all week, commentaries, articles, blogs, etc. But now I chew on it during the week and as the weekend approaches start my study.

I find my chewing makes me see things from the point of view of a 1st century Christian. Either those hearing the words from Christ or about Him from the original hearers. We tend to pick and choose scripture according to our need at the time. We make it fit our circumstances and apply it how we think it should go. I found out a while back, that God will surprise you everytime. As I have chewed on scripture, God will relate it to something I would have never thought to do.

So, you can teach an old cow new tricks. I am just content to chew.

The Cost to be Counted

A couple of posts ago, I expounded on the hard scripture found in Luke 14:25-31. Jesus is talking to his group of followers and telling them this is not going to be an easy road they are following. Not sure if it was a "get tough so you can keep going" or a "it is going to get tough so you might think about leaving" speech. But it gave me a lot to think about.

I have an adult friend, about 20 years my junior, that is what we today would call mentally challenged. He is a savant and has an incredible memory for names and numbers. He has very strong obsessions and Academy Award winning movies are one of his. He constantly seeks to see each and every one, whether they are appropriate for him or not. He easily gets discouraged and depressed and some of these movies do nothing to help. He attended our church for a time and sat with my family every Sunday. His friendship was high maintenance to say the least and when he moved onto another church that had more "fun" things to do, I missed him but was sadly a bit relieved as well.

So I received a phone call from him a few weeks ago, telling me his step dad had died. This was after an extended illness and the loss was very hard on my friend. He lives with his mom and has a part-time job at the local library, shelving books. This weekend, I got another message from him on my answering machine. The lady that more or less was his mentor and supervisor at the library passed away as well. To add to this added grief, my friend had been laid off from his job. I can assume she more or less had something to do with the protection of his position. I could hear the anguish in his voice, as he left the message.

So I am faced with a dilemma. My plate is more than full right now. My daughter and her husband both were laid off within a few weeks of each other and they and their two children have moved into my modest-sized home, for hopefully what will be a short period of time. I am slightly overwhelmed with the change in my way of life and now am faced with the need of this friend. It is not a small plea for help. He is in a terrible position and I feel I must do something to help.

But do I understand the cost. Am I ready to jump back into that relationship and sacrifice what little time I have for myself? Do I have the energy and compassion he needs right now in this time and this place? If monetary resources are needed, can I find something for him and his family amongst the strain on our finances, stretched even further by our recent move-ins?

Is it God calling me to take up my cross and follow Him? Is He telling me the cost will be worth it? Or that the effort in itself will be my reward? Can, when we are in the greatest of needs, be fed and filled only by reaching outside ourselves and giving that which we do not have, but He can supply? I will let you know.

Love Lifted Me

When I was in my 20's, my husband and I were youth counselors for my church. I was born in that church, so the teens of this group were youngsters I had watched grow up. Little brothers and sisters of my friends. Children of adults I knew and loved. Along with older adult counselors, we took a group to New Braunsfels, TX. It is a town known for its river and the rapids produced. Tubing on a hot summer day is the very best.

Now "in the day" we pretty much let kids take off and ride the rapids. No adults taggging along, just the honor system that they would "play" within the campground we were staying at and just limit their activities to the part of the river contained within. Being there as a young married couple, looking back, we more of less were along for the fun and a cheap vacation. At the evening meal, everyone gathered together, ate, and told tall tales of the days events.

However, that night there were a couple of girls missing. Now, I knew the girla and was not really worried. They had probably found some cute guys and just lost track of time. This was in the day when there was not a pervert believed to be lurking behind every boulder.

However, the older adults were in a frenzy. They were looking high and low and being "persons of responsibility" we did the same. They turned up later, saying they were "witnessing" to two boys they met. I didn't believe it for a minute, but I do remember being glad and relieved they were found.

Years later, a counselor again in the same church, I was with another youth group going to New Braunfels again. However, now I was one of the older adults. In fact, I was large and in charge and add to that mix, a parent of one of those kids. It was a totally different set of circumstances. Not really, but I was, and therefore the mix. I had seen too much, felt too much, been responsible for too much, been a parent too much. I was not the person I was 15 years earlier. I could see the big picture, heard the horror stories, felt the weight of all those kids and my friends, their parents. I worried from the minute we left the parking lot til we set foot on terra concrete once again.

It reminded me of the story of the prodigal. Not so much the end or the beginning, the leaving or receiving. But the middle. My first trip I was the brother. Not really caring about what happened to my brother(s), or sisters. Just focused on me. The only effect I probably saw, was the workload I had to carry due to his absence. Though, I am sure it had it's upside. Like two siblings that share a room. When one is gone, there is a little loss, but your thoughts quickly turn to "what is in it for me". Because that is the center of your world - YOU - DUH! The dad on the other hand, thought about that prodigal day and night. A see saw of hope and despair. Knowing the worst of the world paired with the immaturity of his son. Knowing the match was not even, nor fair in any form or fashion.

So when younger brother returns, there was no way the reception would be the same for dad or big brother. Not the same person, not the same place, not the same relationship. Funny how agape love can change a person. It matures us, provokes us, worries us, emotes us. It takes a strong man and turns him into a weepy baby. It is a love that is beyond our ability to comprehend.


That is what God feels for us. At this point in my life, I no longer think of God as a parent. I think of Him as a grandparent, much like me. A grandparent is the closest thing on earth to an unconditional, agape-loving parent. They look beyond flaws and tantrums because they have this third generation-removed myoptic vision. They cannot see them any other way. I think that is the way God sees us. In the grand scheme of things, it is probably not really the best parenting, if you think about it. But who are we to say! He invented parenting, loving, and all that other good stuff. In fact, why am I trying to put another spin on the love He has for me and mine. It is indescribable. So I will stop it, already

Count the Cost

As I travel this journey to God, I realize how very self-centered I have been. Somehow, in the scheme of things, I subconsciously feel that every scripture passage was written just for me. The loving ones embrace me. The hard ones confuse me. And the harsh ones convict me. I know they speak to me, but I have not, nor will not have exclusive rights to them.

Kind of like these. You must take up your cross. You will hate your father, mother, sister, brother. If you build a house or fight an enemy, you must place your assets along side your liabilities. You don't go in unprepared. Cost too great, you pull out before you lose it all.

For me, these passages just stir visions of inadequacy, righteous fervor, or self and family sacrificing. They dance in my head and make me feel less and less worthy of the calling I feel I heard Him make. Fears - of inferiority or hardship - making me question myself and my very relationship to Him.

But as I study this week's scripture from Luke 14, I realize the crowds Jesus was speaking to were not those that had gathered to hear Him teach. No, these folks were the ones traveling with Him. Kind of like holy groupies. They were there to see the traveling show. I can just imagine the mix. The passionate on-fire youth, the downtrodden, the zealots, the poor, maybe outcasts. Many folks there for what they could get for themselves; what was in it for them

But He tells them, honestly, you have no clue. You have no idea how this is going to end up. The crowds, the attention, the fame - it is all going to be short-lived. If you go the distance, it is going to cost you. And if you are not here for the right reason, you are going to come up short. You are going to be left with wilted party hats and half inflated balloons. And the guest of honor will not be around. Well, mot in the way you imagine or would want Him to be.

Do you have what it takes? And if you do, are you willing to sacrifice it? This was not a showdown between them and Him. It was a compassionate Savior speaking to those that were getting on board; that this just might be the wrong bus.

I feel like one of them sometimes. I feel like I don't really get it. That I am in the crowd - holding up the signs and yelling the slogans. But I am not fully behind my Candidate. That in theory, I am on His team. But will I be when the going gets tough. What if, in fact, I have already deserted Him. Not by way of the sinful paths - like rejection and pride. But by more subtle and devious exits - apathy and detachment.

I would hope I would be the one who said, "You can count on me because I have what it takes. I'll gladly pay the cost. I am willing and able to play all the way. Count me in."

Anyway, I would hope I so.