Kyrie in the '80s

I’ve been intrigued lately by something from the ’80s. In the middle of the huge world of pop music, and for a while at the top of the pop charts, a group called Mr. Mister sang the words “Kyrie eleison,” which in Greek asks for the Lord to have mercy upon us. What a grand picture to imagine millions of people seeking the Lord through that song. That is…IF they understood what they were singing. I, for one, was pretty much oblivious to the whole thing. I don’t remember my brain being tuned in. And there lies the intrigue: how many times do I overlook evidence of the Lord? Even more, do I ever see evidence of Him but flat-out ignore it? Sometimes I don’t afford Him even 10 minutes. I see the Bible sitting on the table and pass it by. I drive east some mornings and realize afterward that I didn’t even notice the sunrise, which He created. For that matter, we can be aware of a beautiful sunrise but have the audacity to opt for the radio in resistance to quietly pondering the depth of His creation. Evidence of the Lord will never cease, and I ask Him to make me aware of His presence—in music, creation, and all the places He takes me. Still now, decades later, I’m so glad Mr. Mister sang those words.

Kissed so lovingly

He leaned toward her to sing. Each of his phrases seemed to speak from a smile he offered so naturally. I wondered if the whole time he remembered the days when they both could laugh and frolic freely. Now she rests in a bed with her husband sitting near, offering loving nudges to prompt her body to move. With one forefinger, he touches near her eye and finds such joy to see her eyelids lift. He gently touches the side of her mouth, saying, “Come on now. No sugar without singing.” Her lips respond, bidding a faint voice of the brightest hope. And indeed he gladly shares his kisses as soft, little pecks to her forehead. It was a demonstration of love so pure and patient, perhaps more tender than I’d ever witnessed before. Papers and a phone had fallen from his lap, and my entrance into the room was for their retrieval, yet I found myself standing in respect for something we don’t often see. A truly awe-inspiring picture of something God sets within and beyond our human capacities. Thank you, Lord.

A new birthday

Imagine the fun of a birthday party with ice cream, candy, decorations, and even those rubber-banded party hats that pinch under your chin. Add a candle to the cake, and everybody’s smiling and bubbly. One very sweet friend adds her personal testimony as she celebrates her Christian birthday. More than the day she arrived on this earth, she recognizes the day she asked Jesus Christ to be her Savior. I know no one else who celebrates this way, and she’s caused me to rethink a few things for good reason. She grew up in excruciating circumstances. She was sexually abused as a child, and in her adolescence, her mother tried to kill her with a car. Having sought the services of a counselor at different points of her adulthood, this sweet friend has gained healthful perspective and tried to reconnect with some members of her family, though it’s been a rough road. Her love of the Lord is utmost. She recognizes His deep love for her, and that’s why she celebrates. Even for people with cushy lives, all the nice-and-neat childhoods in the world don’t change the fact that we all need the love and forgiveness of Jesus. No matter where we’re born on this globe, no matter our difficulty or ease in dealing with family, no matter the pain we’ve endured or the pain we’ve caused, Jesus offers a new beginning. 1 Peter 1:3 says He has given us new birth into a living hope. May we celebrate.

A rejuvenating conversation

My gauge leaned toward empty. The sit-down conversations I love about real-life issues had not happened this day. Two and a half hours of good teaching and worshipful music, yet somehow I felt disconnected. But as our study group was dismissing, opportunity presented new. A bundle of kindness now sat in the chair next to me, and she was the personification of God’s blessing. I discovered she’d been in a car wreck just a few days before and that she’d endured some of my same bumps and bruises in life. Despite all that, her thankful spirit smiled bright, and we shared stories of the Lord and of the ways He calls us to new situations. In fact, within this very conversation, He was supplying new joy through friendship and for prayer. Psalm 121 says He watches over our lives and does not slumber. He had answered my longing. And my gauge now tilted full again.

Restless in the car

No talking. Waking up at 6:00 on a Saturday morning was not what I wanted to do. But finally I interrupted our quiet in the car to acknowledge my bad attitude and to say I was asking the Lord to change me. My selfishness didn’t feel good. In fact, it made me quite restless. Our drive to church was for an occasion I usually love, and shortly after my prayer, the Lord did return the joy. It was opportunity to worship with the community and offer food and clothes, and He poured blessing into those nooks and crannies where I’d allowed selfishness to reside. I had wondered what stories to share with the congregation that morning, and as we sang “Seek Ye First,” the Lord reminded me of one of His real-life lessons on priority. I had stared at a high pile of school papers to grade, yet when I surrendered my red pen in order to spend time with Him first, He seemed to speed up the grading later on. It was a perfect story to share with the song lyrics. The next blessing came in the form of a Korean lady speaking English. She courageously spoke in her new language to share her love of the Lord, and in the process she encouraged my use of Spanish. Soon I found myself inviting to church a jewelry store owner and a Supercuts stylist, and I stood amazed all over again at how the Lord seemed to let the Spanish words roll from my tongue. Then still another blessing came when the Lord showed me what to write next in my blog. I routinely ask Him what to write for you as readers, and on this occasion I’d felt devoid of ideas. Yet He reminded me about last week’s concert, which became Monday’s blog entry. With each blessing, the Lord layered for me a new humility. Selfishness had invited me to pout, and I had accepted the offer, yet the Lord ultimately won. And driving home we became a noisy car rattling to tell about the Lord.

Concert + God

My ticket stub listed Casting Crowns as the concert headline. Yet there was also something else happening that night. Even in Lindsay McCaul’s opening songs, the Lord was already at work. He knew her lyrics would touch a particular fear I’d been harboring. The previous day, a friend very sweetly asked if I planned to audition for our next community theater production. This next set of auditions requires Canadian and British accents, and the idea makes me nervous. Playing around with dialects can be fun, yet this next production is not a comedy, and trying to seriously change my vowel tones on stage with everybody watching could be quite uncomfortable. Still the Lord rescued me to reveal how my thoughts had been twisting out of priority. Honestly I don’t want fear of a British accent to inhibit my willingness to answer the Lord's call. Our selfish human nature can present a persistent battle, yet the Lord's ways will thrill the selfless heart. At the concert, as Sanctus Real and the Afters entered, and as Casting Crowns talked about leaving the mindsets of the world behind, I loved the Lord all over again for interceding on my behalf. Joshua 1:9 says, “…do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Indeed the Lord was with me at the concert, with purpose even beyond the imprint on the ticket stub.

Prayer & a movie

Nobody wanted to lead. They quickly surrendered their hands in the air and pleaded “Not me!” The consensus asked to wait for an official person, meaning one whose company nametag spelled out “CHAPLAIN.” The prevailing reluctance to pray caught me off guard because a prayer by one of us regular folk can be just as valid and effective as the clergy’s. Speaking as someone who’s served a few times on church staffs, I attest to my staff-dom itself not suddenly putting me closer to God. And then last night in the movie Have a Little Faith, which I did enjoy very much, one character initially felt unworthy of writing a eulogy for a rabbi who served his congregation for 40+ years. Yet many people not employed as ministers in churches, hospitals, or the military also devote decades to knowing and following the Lord. I respect them all the same—with or without an official nametag. So what is our view of pastors, priests, and those who wear “the cloth”?  As a fellow Christian, I’m grateful for their love of God and for their positions of service. Still the Lord gives us a whole world to impact, and we don’t have to wait till we’re on the payroll to pray and serve freely.

How far will I go?

Buses present such an attraction for me. I read about an artist who includes buses in her work, and instantly I wanted to attend her exhibit. It’s because the mention of a bus returns me to an amazing time with God. That first bus ride was big. Even initiating the discussion with my husband beforehand required some courage. To put the topic on the table was to give breath to that new idea flitting around in my head. That first step is crucial. Dipping that first toe into uncharted waters. Delving into that first book to learn a new language. Auditioning for a new role that's drama instead of music. Entering a new building to meet an entirely new church. Not every call from the Lord appears in big print on the front page, and how far will I go to find Him? Will I pray faithfully? Will I seek Him through the Bible? Will I let Him set the circumstances or allow impatience to set my own? Will I trust Him to lead in new surroundings, or will I discard the whole notion in fear? Psalm 121 says He will not let our feet slip. Hebrews 11 says He rewards those who diligently seek Him. Your bus may look different from mine, yet each of our roads points to an amazing God. May we encourage each other to seek the Lord and take those first steps. 

An oboe sabbatical

No oboe for 4 months. It had been an unplanned sabbatical. Now I faced the customarily unfun days of rebuilding embouchure muscles and aspects of breathing and hand position that tend to slip. Yet there was a greater gap about which I wondered. I never know quite where the Lord is taking this music. Would I sense His presence again? Would He use this instrument yet another time to reveal Himself? I’d been praying. I tried playing oboe alongside my husband on guitar, but the first few days fell flat. I could play for a longer time because my embouchure was strengthening, but I didn’t sense the Lord turning on a light bulb of ideas. But that very next day was different. As my husband noodled around on the guitar, I opened my oboe case and soaked my reed to join in, and we came upon a fresh creativity. The Lord was giving melodies I hadn’t imagined, and the vibrato through the horn carried a rich resonance that floated so fully into every ounce of my being. Altogether my heart shot forth a joyful adrenaline, and I loved the Lord for revealing new again.

Mumphord's BBQ & more

I love Mumphord's.  Plain and simple.  This was my first visit to Victoria, and I loved the grid of streets around the town square and the absence of highway overpasses. The cows and the farm fields along our 2-hour drive had already given fresh air for my brain to start to relax.  And a wonderfully quaint through-type arch bridge on U.S. 87 can do wonders for city folk who have become too hustled and bustled.  Stepping foot into Mumphord’s was simply icing on the cake.  The rustic setting, the scrumptious, plentiful portions of brisket, and the charm of the people.  The staff seemed genuinely happy and at ease, and the girl who delivered our plates talked to me over her shoulder as if I was one of her own.  The simplicity of their helpfulness was strikingly noticeable because it appeared uninstructed and neither hurried or puffy.  The whole atmosphere was down to earth, and when the man cooking outside in the back saw us at our car, he readily returned my wave.  Their kindness instilled in me a desire that bloomed so quickly to reciprocate.  Ephesians 4:32 connects the ideas of kindness and compassion and forgiveness, as rooted in Jesus’ example.  Mumphord’s didn’t advertise Christianity on their menu, yet their humble example caught my attention.

A visitor of patients – possibly

I wasn’t too thrilled about this meeting.  I loved our years of playing and singing music on the third floor, but it seemed that season at the hospital had ended.  I love the Volunteer Coordinator who invited me to the meeting, but was there really a role for me anymore?  Last week when a friend suggested I inquire, her words carried a sensation that intrigued me—maybe that intangible, inexplicable sensation that the Lord sometimes imposes to compel us to follow through.  So I drove to the annual meeting of volunteers.  And as I crossed the threshold of our meeting room, the blessings began to pour.  Of particular interest was a lady who spoke of her role as a Patient Visitor.  For 6 years, she visited patients to offer magazines and conversation.  Instantly a chorus of bells and whistles started to sound in my head, and my heart fluttered to envision myself in the same role.  Could I also be a Patient Visitor?  Being severely ill and away from home could easily render a patient just plain sad, and I’d love the opportunity to brighten someone’s day.  I have another meeting next week, and I don’t want to jump ahead of prayer, but my eyes are watchful for confetti and curly-cues showering on the horizon.  My pointy party hat is ready.  Thank you, Lord.

Moses, a stutterer?

A friend told me about Moses, and I was intrigued.  Somehow I’d never before heard Moses described as a stutterer.  "Lord, where does Your Bible talk about this?”  Months passed after my initial prayer, and actually my focus faded a bit.  Here now this week in the midst of reading a Jennifer Rothschild book, I stared at Exodus 4:10, in which Moses describes himself as “slow of speech and tongue.”  This could be it!  This could be why some people say he stuttered!  As my adrenaline raced, I came quite close to turning a cartwheel.  The Lord answered the prayer of an ordinary girl wanting to learn.  That’s important because I remember a high school geometry teacher in whose class I felt forever lost and increasingly disinterested.  Yet with Jesus, He knows how to reach us, and He saves the lost.  We have a Teacher who inspires our love for learning by answering questions we forgot we even asked.  And I saw again how often His blessings come when my Bible is open.

A mesmerizing tune on the piano

Suddenly I’m in the piano mode.  Hadn’t been playing too much, yet I’d been asked to play the next Sunday.  “Lord, what do I play?”  Could be out of a book.  Could be something loosely in my head.  I sorted through handwritten notes and a stash of books and came upon a Jim Brickman piece called “Winter Waltz.”  The minor key grabbed me, and I liked that the phrases gave option for slowing and quickening.  Soon certain parts of the music became almost mesmerizing.  Each time I turned to the third page, three particular measures drew me in.  They became far more than blots of ink on a page.  I must have played those notes at least 20 times over the week, and they left me almost numb, as if unyielding to any threats to disrupt the aura.  It was just me, in my little house, given nothing the rest of the world knew about.  Yet this “nothing” was wonderful.  The Lord had put a mountain in my front room and led me to its highest point to experience His answer to my prayer.  He had shown me the piano piece to play on Sunday.

Being – with the little church

It’s my one-month anniversary for attending a weekday group with a nearby church.  My schedule is different right now.  I’ve been asking the Lord where I should be, and turns out I’ve been spending one morning each week with some women of this little church.  It’s a situation of being rather than doing.  I don’t know ahead what our weekly sessions will bring.  Maybe prayer, maybe journaling, maybe Bible study.  Maybe reflecting on the Lord’s provision.  Without a prescribed list of what to do, our little group is simply available to each other.  It’s quite refreshing.  We sit in the foyer of the building, and I often have a picturesque view.  Big windows that let me touch inside and outside together.  Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God . . .”  Here serenity is held in a soft blue sky, a slight breeze, and the sound of the Lord’s name. 

Beyond the anxiety

It’s too much.  Suddenly we feel crazy, having been unaware of how high the anxiety was mounting.  Neither a resounding scream nor a prolonged cry resolves anything anymore.  I watched a movie about a girl who bore the brunt of her mother’s anxieties.  From 10 years old, this girl with a sweet little freckled face endured criticisms that slowly crushed her.  Because the mom regretted her own childhood obesity, she criticized her daughter’s slight chubbiness and continued to hound her through high school and college.  Along the way, the daughter became anorexic, eventually committing suicide.  In real life, I think of one friend who has dealt with an eating disorder.  I think of friends who struggle with depression that has led them to attempt suicide.  God has connected me with these friends as blessings, as I have studied the Bible with each one.  At times they’ve wanted to crawl off the planet.  Yet in the midst of their pain, they have come to know Jesus, who lifts and replenishes them over and over.  There is hope in the name of Jesus Christ, who knows the depth of our every hurt.  When we feel swallowed by the world, we can call out to Him for help.

From "Yes, Dear" to theater

Just 5 words.  And they’re really so simple.  It was the way she posed the question.  The tension in her jaw and the low voice and the steady pace.  Something hadn’t felt right when I’d been saying my lines in the play, and here I heard Kim on TV asking, "What did you just say?"  It was one of my lines almost exactly.  Her voice inflection was convincing, and I knew the Lord was giving me her example.  He was answering my plea for help in this world of theater that’s new for me.  I didn’t plan to watch “Yes, Dear,” though He stepped my feet toward the television for a blessing.

Popeye & the real battleground

Have you seen the old Popeye cartoons?  Wimpy was a guy who loved hamburgers.  One time Popeye and Bluto had diner wars and hurled burger condiments at each other.  Wimpy conveniently sat below the line of fire and reached up into the blurry exchange to pull down ketchup and mustard and whatever else he wanted.  At times, I’ve felt like Wimpy.  I’ve been in the midst of battles, though mine have felt quite gut-wrenching, leaving me beat up and bruised.  One semester I was given a music class that tested my every nerve.  Because of scheduling problems, this class became a dumping ground for students with nowhere to go.  We had a wide disparity of interest, including a majority who wanted only to disrupt.  Over a period of weeks, I became discouraged.  I did pray for the Lord’s guidance, and I knew He was with me, but the tensions of battle kept me gasping for air.  Then came a conversation one evening.  A boy’s mom approached me to say how thankful she was for my encouragement of her son in music.  I could hardly believe my ears.  With all the times I’d stopped class to reprimand, I assumed they all hated my voice and everything associated.  On another occasion, a mom told me how much her daughter enjoyed singing and learning about music with me.  Somehow in the whirlwind, the Lord had been at work, bringing good out of what I perceived to be a mess.  When I open the Bible to read 1 Peter 5:8, I learn that the devil is real and he prowls with intent to devour us.  But then I read 2 Chronicles 16:9 to realize the eyes of the Lord roam the earth in support of us and to strengthen us.  There’s the real battle right there.  Devil versus God.  And the good news is that God ultimately wins, which means His children win too.  I reach into the line of fire to bring down a bottle of ketchup, or in this case to find God’s direction, and maybe in that moment what I pull down doesn’t look like what I think I want, yet we keep looking to the Lord.  He is in the mix.  He fights for us all the while on the front lines, and we can find comfort in that.

Reminiscent of the church

I remember a lady who was my prayerful roommate at a women’s retreat.  I still think of guys and girls with whom I stayed up all hours and bopped around singing in the back of a van on a mission trip in Mexico.  I think of girls with whom I studied the Bible for years.  I think of a man who asked me to pray for the Lord to free him from homosexuality.  I think of a boy who still makes me smile because he thought he so urgently needed to speak out each week in our kindergarten class, and I miss conversations with his mom.  Sometimes the Lord calls us to change congregations, and why don’t I see my former church-mates?  How does the ball drop?  And how so quickly sometimes?  We serve the people of the church, but ultimately we serve the Lord.  If we serve His purposes with a congregation, even if we depart without a single continuing friendship, we can be joyful for having known the Lord in those moments.  We call, we email, yet somehow the same people don’t come together again.  Is it like wanting a church souvenir?  Sometimes I’m not ready to relinquish the experience.  I love these people and consider our time precious for having sought the Lord together.  I want to reconnect, though the fact that I don’t see many of them again doesn’t nullify the genuineness of the time we shared.  Did I go to church to make friends?  What was my purpose? The Lord has used the people of the church to bless me many times, and He has so tenderly sent their feet walking up to me on occasions when I’ve needed a friend.  Yet ultimately I’m looking to know and worship the Lord and serve as He would lead.  From there, the blessings pour.  Because I love the moments He gives, I love the people who are part of those moments.

Jesus, my theater director

It’s happening again.  Another new thing.  This summer, notions of theater floated through my head.  I asked, “Lord, is that You?”  I searched local auditions, in case I was supposed to show up somewhere.  Kept praying for the Lord to put my steps in place and found one audition that left me curious.  Wrote it on the calendar weeks ahead and thought I’d see if on the actual day I still felt inclined to go.  On that day, 3:00 would be decision time.  Twenty minutes down the road and I was at the theater, without too many thoughts of turning around the car to cancel the whole thing.  The auditions finished, our orientation meeting ensued, and here I am playing an adoption worker, an annoying nurse, and an attorney.  In 2 short weeks, I’ve gone from elated to anxious and all in between.  Yet the Lord has blessed me.  This week, He has calmed the anxieties that nagged my brain.  I still have lines to learn and movements to coordinate, but He’s eased my heart one day at a time.  All along I’ve wondered if this was less about acting and more about meeting a certain someone.  I love to see how God connects people.  I could do without the nervousness that comes with new situations, but even first glimpse of witnessing Him at work makes my heart leap.  Forward march.

Blood & hugs

“Church is too huggy.  They’re too happy.  It’s just not real.”  For someone entering a church for the first time, the atmosphere could seem quite different from the rest of the world.   “They talk about blood, and that’s just gross.  And altars and sacrifices are too weird.”  Critics of the church have some valid points.  Yes, the church is different.  We seek and follow One who was different from the beginning.  His ideas of servanthood and forgiveness went against the norm.  Many of those church hugs acknowledge a deep friendship that grew when people stood with each other through painful circumstances.  Many of those hugs are the kind that squeeze you and lift you off the ground because the degree of thankfulness is so immense.  It’s a different version of war actually, and when the essence of life is at stake, a deep connection takes place for having persevered together.  People might not understand.  Visitors could wonder.  And indeed we hope they will keep wondering about Jesus ... and visit the church again ... and seek Him at home ... and on the streets ... and with their every breath.  The love of Jesus Christ is wonderfully different.  If you’re a visitor, W E L C O M E !

Humility & blessing

You’re talking with a co-worker.  The conversation becomes delicate as she mentions a guy who makes her uncomfortable.  This leads to discussion of boyfriends and husbands and how guys and girls interact, and suddenly the subject of divorce is on the table.  When the subject approaches, my heart starts to race, and I imagine nervous red splotches covering my light skin.  Divorce is not my favorite topic, except for the fact that it can combine with the subject of forgiveness.  I shared with my co-worker, “Divorce does not please God, yet I took part in a divorce.  And as my sorrow deepened for what I’d done, my love for the Lord and His forgiveness grew.”  The teacher’s lounge that moment offered not the slightest peep.  Yet soon I heard a story about pregnancy during high school.  Then a separate story about a daughter diagnosed with autism.  All kinds of difficulty and heartache that needed a place to release.  I’m not saying we spill our guts with everyone we meet, yet if God prompts us to share, we can be glad for our testimonies to encourage someone else.  In this case, the humbling topic of divorce served as invitation for others to honestly release their pain.  Not everyone has a home or a friend who listens.  We may be someone’s first awareness of how Jesus saves and forgives and walks with us through pain. 

The paper mountain

Certain words are just funny.  Like when I say, “I cleaned house.”  I chuckle en route to my lips even beginning to form the words.  Really our family isn’t sloppy, and other than cat fur accumulating, we pick up as we go.  Yet when a rare cleaning mood hits, especially one that has potential to tackle the mountain of papers in the kitchen, we better let it play out.  Don’t squelch an all-nighter.  A few weeks ago, I finally tackled the mountain.  It was an ominous, above-ground black hole that threatened to swallow anyone attempting to sort its contents.  Yet now was the time to topple this pile whose balance had been carefully guarded for years.  And what I had dreaded all this time did prove to bless my soul.  I was pleasured to reread articles and realize my attraction to them in the first place was not in vain.  What was an inkling years ago, such as one list of Bible study ideas, had now come to fruition with great blessing.  I’d kept a bookstore clipping years ahead of the time it would be useful.  Because I found it now and my book is now published, making a phone call to the store about my book now fit.  I found photos of my husband playing guitar when we served with a homeless ministry under a downtown bridge.  How sweet to recall that cold December morning, all bundled for warmth and singing freely on the streets.  A blessing for the Lord to show me that photo from deep within the paper mountain I had seen as treacherous.  God can bring life to what we bemoan and consider mundane.  His unexpected blessings I love. 

Kindness at 100 degrees

Two events, six people, and a salute.  I drove to my doctor’s office across town and walked inside to pick up some medicine.  I returned to the car, only to find it dead.  Battery didn’t work—no juice, nothing, nada, zilch.  The key was in the ignition, but the engine wouldn’t turn over.  Eeesh.  On the more trivial side, my hope for this less-than-30-minute trip being my first time for free parking was now looking shattered.  I walked down the aisle to the parking attendant to explain.  She offered that her Security Department could jump my car battery.  With a big sigh of relief, I welcomed her offer.  One worker from Security walked toward me, and the second arrived with a vehicle.  The first man kept me company, and the second brought the hardware.  Two very kind men for whom I was extremely thankful.  I now envisioned myself soon lavishing in the luxury of air conditioning and stepping out of the swimming pool of sweat that comes with 100^o heat.  Thirty minutes and I should be home, except for the fact that the car died again a few miles down the road.  This time, I was in the left turn lane at a very busy intersection approaching the highway.  I stepped out of the car to hand-motion the car behind me to go around.  The driver quickly approached to offer to push my car into the Exxon on the opposite side of the street.  Then came another man to help push.  Then a lady stepped into the street to stop traffic in order for the two men to push the car across.  That’s the abbreviated version of the story, as we endured buckets of sweat while having trouble shifting the car into neutral, and I made numerous phone calls and waited a good while for the tow truck.  What shined very brightly in this story was the kindness of people, starting with the parking lot attendant.  I was humbled.  I could not say for certain that I would have offered to push someone’s stalled car across the street.  I was so immensely thankful for their help that I sat dumbfounded each time the scenes replayed in my head.  And I didn’t even have the opportunity to thank everyone, as I assume the second man who pushed the car and the lady who directed traffic must have left while I situated the car at the Exxon.  There’s something about kindness and how it speaks without expectation of repayment and sometimes in anonymity.  Colossians 3:12 tells us to clothe ourselves with kindness.  All this, and still there was a bigger picture.  I did reach the doctor’s office for my medicine.  I even received free parking.  God surrounded me with kind people and caused me to rethink my own ways.  And still while sitting in the tow truck, I realized the Lord opened a door to talk with the driver about Jesus.  And with a man at our car repair shop, another conversation opened to retell of God’s provision.  I hereby salute the kindness of people and ultimately this call upon God’s people to be kind.

Jonah & me

What to study next?  I didn’t know how God would answer.  One Sunday, a friend asked if I planned to attend a Going Beyond conference where Priscilla Shirer would be speaking.  My friend mentioned Priscilla’s name in a way that compelled me to inquire about her Bible studies.  I pulled up the Internet to learn more, and I looked into her books and viewed her teaching style.  Sure enough, my small group has been using her book Jonah.  Though I did not attend the conference, the fact that my friend mentioned it did prompt me to inquire further.  Of the whole realm of topics to study and oodles and oodles of available books, the Lord pointed me to Jonah and this particular writing that fits our unique group. … When we pray, we can be illusioned into thinking we’re tossing up blind requests with no certainty of where they’ll land.  Yet God is not a distant Father.  Unlike that cartoon of lost luggage forever orbiting the earth, our prayers do not float aimlessly.  The Lord receives each one, and He is attentive to our prayer (1 Peter 3:12). 

Prayers in the parking lot

One friend prayed for me through the open window of our car.  Another friend prayed as we stood in the parking lot.  Still another friend persevered to pray as we dripped in the sweat of 100^o heat.  Suddenly I realized the presence of God.  My brain had been on overload for days and weeks.  Too many ideas tossing around.  I was on the edge of crying and possibly erupting.  “Lord, help me see Your path clearly.  Put my feet in place.”  The where, when, and how of multiple who’s and what’s were all jumbled in my head.  Work, music, Bible study.  Hospitals, shelters, coffeehouses.  Buses, magazines, bookstores, blog, old video, and new video.  Storytelling and speaking, and oboe, piano, and singing.  Current book, new book, and flitting notions of theater.  And none of these things were bad.  They were just all firing at the same time, and it felt frantic.  In the onslaught of ideas, I was too scattered even to decide whether to have turkey or ham for lunch. Very unusually, I had opted out of the sermon that morning in favor of reading the Bible outside, as even amidst the church setting I typically love, I somehow wanted some one-on-one time with God.  I sought the purity of His voice uninterrupted.  I had prayed.  I had asked others to pray.  And now I stood in the midst of blessing.  The Lord had sent comfort in the form of friends.  He enlisted power in the form of prayer—both in English and in Spanish.  I soon also read some of John MacArthur’s Anxious for Nothing, which is unusual because I ordinarily go straight to the Bible, but I assume the Lord had an intermediary in mind this time.  MacArthur pointed me to the Psalms and Hebrews 11, which continues to ease my heart days later with the reminder that God does reward when we earnestly seek Him.  To find calm within a storm is no small feat, and I give thanks.

Uphill in Chiapas

“If I don’t come back, just know I’m with the Lord.”  That’s what our team leader said.  Rain had made our road muddy.  Our vehicles could not carry the 30 of us, plus our equipment, to the top of the hill.  Our wheels sank in the mud, and in the vast darkness we could not determine a route to walk.  Only one path seemed open, and a somber tone hovered throughout.  Our leader declared he would seek help alone, directing us to follow orders of his second in command.  Danger was imminent, as this was Zapatista territory, and we had met opposition already.  One man that morning was not happy about our request to cross his land in order to visit our small church, though he did eventually grant us permission.  Now our medical clinic had finished for the day.  We had folded up the tarps and tables and cots and our makeshift dental chair from Home Depot.  We had repacked our many tubs of medicine and supplies for doctoring.  The concrete slab of the church building would provide dry ground for our wait.  We prayed for our leader’s safekeeping, and streams of tears ran down my face to realize the seriousness of it all.  For those who chose to sing, their lyrics now offered a deeper hope that filled the room possibly serving as our sleeping quarters till daylight.  We could recount our days together:  puppet shows that entertained all ages, preaching that compelled many, and clinics that drew people to walk for hours to find medical care.  To my amazement, I felt no fear that night.  I wondered if in the United States we would be as compassionate as the church hosts who sweetly stayed beside us those late hours.  Our leader did return, and with immense thankfulness we realized the Lord’s great power to protect.  With some big flashlights now, we unloaded the medical supplies we had just finished packing and walked them piece by piece up the hill in order to reduce the carrying weight of our vehicles.  Back and forth we traipsed, and the Lord did give our empty vehicles passageway to the top, despite the mud.  In a few hours, we were asleep in the city, unconcerned till the next day that our stomachs were starting to growl for food.  I loved the Lord for His wonderful care of us, and I had caught a glimpse of Him at work in Mexico.

On the fly, but not really

I like to feel prepared.  I like to feel equipped for the job.  Yet I often land in the opposite circumstance.  God keeps giving me things I don’t know how to do and things I don’t want to do.  The Lord called me to teach school, and He gave me a choir class.  I’d taken some education courses for teaching English, but here came music.  I’d never officially studied voice, and I took piano lessons only a short time in elementary school.  Soon I found myself to be the only piano player within miles, and I had several ensembles with complicated accompaniments and still more high school solos sprouting around.  And as for teaching English, though I did have some training, English wasn’t even close to being my favorite subject.  On top of that, writing can be painfully laborious for me, and I’m a slow reader.  When the Lord called me to publish a book, I had to dive into a new world that didn’t look attractive.  I knew little about publishers and even less about the details of formatting and illustration and cost.  Unconfident of my own writing, I hesitated.  Each of these scenarios required prayer and patience and practice, and all 3 go against the human grain.  I love to learn, but it’s different when somebody besides me assigns the task.  Maybe for a change, I’d like to choose the what, when, and how.  But truthfully, when I step back to view the whole picture, I love letting God lead.  His projects have bigger scope and greater blessing.  In actuality, I am prepared for the tasks He gives me.  The Lord gives lots of on-the-job training.  With each new task, I’m mentally fatigued at first to realize I’m headed down another new road, but then I realize my role is still primarily to know Him.  He will order the steps.  Know the Lord through the Bible, and pray.  Be patient, and stay alert.  It’s not a formula but rather His way of letting me live out my faith.  I’ve experienced Him transforming my anxiety and fear into peace.  He has changed my dread into eager anticipation.  Even if I feel like I’m flying loosely into new situations, I’m actually prepared.  My preparedness is in knowing Him.  Proverbs 3:5-6

The invitation

People could yell at me.  They could think I’m weird.  They could slap me in the face for mentioning the name of Jesus Christ.  Plenty of people hated Jesus then, and plenty of people hate His name now.  But there’s blessing in offering an invitation.  The possibility of someone’s life being saved outweighs the risk of any flak flying my way.  When I invite friends to study the Bible, sometimes they decline.  But a sense of contentment comes with inviting.  Sometimes we’re the first link in the chain.  We invite people who come, and then they invite a subsequent group of friends who come.  Once my husband invited a neighbor to church.  The neighbor didn’t come.  Then a second invitation and a third.  When our neighbor eventually visited church, I felt like a party was happening in my heart.  Really the thrill was for the neighbor’s sake, though I was dancing too.  One time a friend came with me to Bible study.  She saw a poster on the wall and asked, “What’s that?”  The poster spelled the name Jesus.  It registered with me that this friend asked what, not who.  And consequently, may I never take invitations lightly.  We wonder, “What if people get mad?”  “What if they say ‘No’?”  Are we more concerned with pleasing God or pleasing people?  There’s validity in both, but which takes priority?  I should be able to hear the word no.  Actually much is revealed about us in the way we handle the word no.  I’m ready for the worst and hopeful for the best. 

A quest toward Spanish

God sent me a friend.  Maybe you’re thinking, What’s the big deal?  Doesn’t everybody have friends?  The big deal was the timing.  I sat in my little blue cloth-covered chair at church and felt frustrated by my inability to understand the Spanish language.  Even as recently as the previous week the Lord gave me enough Spanish to converse with a college student at a bus transit center, so certainly I had vivid recollection of how He meets needs, yet somehow this Sunday I still fell victim to frustration.  Temptation took hold, and I was almost in tears.  But hold on a minute because here comes my friend.  I pictured the Lord saying, “Hang on, Linda.  I’m sending help.  I’m sending you a friend with a sweet smile and kindness that overflows.  She’ll guide you in your learning of Spanish, and you’ll even get to sing with her “Dame Tus Ojos,” which I know you’ve wanted to do.”  And what happened was really quite amazing.  As soon as our pastor offered a closing prayer, up the aisle walks my friend.  Yes, I already knew her.  Yes, I would enjoy talking with her any day of the week.  But because my heart did hurt and my brain was on overload, all the more I welcomed this friend’s footsteps in my direction.  I had felt lost in the language that surrounded me, and the Lord sent me a lifeline.  On this day, His timing was impeccable once again.  Hardly did I have the presence of mind to pray, yet how prompt was His rescue.  “Dame Tus Ojos” [Give Me Your Eyes] held new application, as He set my eyes on His provision.

Do I have to go?

Do Christians have to go to church?  It’s a longstanding question.  I answer here from the perspective of blessing.  Basically, church can wear me out, but for good reason.  With church comes an excitement I love that can lead to a Sunday afternoon nap.  One particular Sunday morning, the Lord poured blessings through the song “Amazing Grace.”  How many thousands of renditions of the song have been offered over the years?  God designed this one for guitar and oboe within a small congregation.  We were solely instrumental at first, joined later with lyrics.  The Lord planted the idea for this instrumental version months ahead, as we sorted through earlier attempts to play the song and found it unfitting until this particular Sunday.  As the traditional melody floated through some ad libs here and there, I looked for the Lord.  He adjusted my embouchure to compensate for my lack of warmup between venues.  He led my fingers to notes on the oboe that blended with my husband’s on the guitar.  He gave flexibility to our group in watching for cues to wait or move ahead.  Within one heart, particularly mine, in maybe less than 15 minutes, the Lord blessed in multiple ways.  Over all, He showed how He prompts an idea and carries it through.  Regularly I ask Him to sing through my oboe, and though I don’t play so much anymore and I’ve lost much of the technique I used to have, He gives a sense of His presence in the resonance through the horn.  Experiences like this are invigorating.  Put together a morningful of blessings that seem to stretch the heart to a new capacity, and sometimes it’s almost too much to handle.  Sometimes I wonder if my knees will buckle and I’ll melt under the weight of blessing.  Yet why would I want to live without blessings that so wonderfully impact my whole being?  Am I forced to attend church?  No.  But God blesses immensely through the church.  Not every Christian has the physical means to travel to a church’s meeting place.  But if you can travel, I encourage all to ask the Lord to lead you.  It’s not a matter of checking an attendance box.  I hope you’ll attend because you want to know the Lord in the midst of the church.  I’ve prayed for you already.

Prayer & a party hat

I’d been wondering about a certain verse.  Knew it was in the Bible but not sure where.  I asked God to show me the verse.  One afternoon my eyes spotted it in the midst of Matthew’s fourth chapter.  Verse 4 says, “… Man does not live on bread alone…”  Seems endless the number of times I’ve heard that quote.  How many food companies have adapted it for their advertisements?  How many motivational speeches have included it?  Yet the portion often quoted is not the complete sentence.  Jesus says, “It is written:  ‘Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”  Similar words are in Deuteronomy 8:3.  Tangible, edible bread contributes to our physical survival, but our ultimate sustenance, our ultimate need for all aspects of life, is the Word of God.  The wisdom in the verse is a blessing.  But now we look beyond the verse.  Remember I asked God to show me this verse in the Bible?  He did answer my prayer.  That’s a BIG DEAL because it means He listened to the request of an ordinary girl in an ordinary place.  We’re all ordinary, and can’t we be glad the Lord hears the common man?  We often fill the air with our requests of God, but what about our thank-you’s?  Do we offer thank-you’s and celebrate with Him?  When God answers a prayer, it’s time for a party!  Don’t talk yourself out of the great joy we should take in realizing an answer to prayer.  It’s huge news!  Put on one of those pointy party hats with the stretchy band under the chin.  Celebrate with the Lord first.  Include Him at the top of the party list.  Bake the cake, and expect Him at the front door.  He provides our bread and answers our prayers, and how cool is that!

A new idea, but now what?

A new and exciting idea floats through the brain, and we can be eager to use it.  Why wait?  Back in 1995 as I curled up on the sofa to read one of Jack London's many, the Lord gave me an astounding experience that let me know I would do some writing about slavery.  Though intimidated at first, I did want to stay attuned to the idea of writing.  I dabbled around with it a bit.  In 2002, I quit teaching school to allow some concentrated writing time.  In 2010, I published a book, though on a different subject.  All this to say the initial idea to write prompted much prayer over a period of many years.  Yet on a different occasion when God gave me the idea to teach homebound students, I was quickly on the job in less than a month.  It also was many years from the time the idea of jail ministry first caught my interest up to the December afternoon in 2009 when a phone call with a chaplain appeared to formally connect all the dots.  And one idea that’s still in progress is last summer’s notion to make a video to accompany my bus book.  I’ve seen a few puzzle pieces connect, though many questions remain, and I continue to seek the Lord’s guidance.  To jump in and buy a camera and spend hours and days putting a video together doesn’t seem the thing to do, at least not yet.  Sometimes our new idea is God’s preview of what is to come.  In our waiting, He prepares us, maybe connecting us with people in certain circumstances to accomplish His larger purpose.  One aspect of Christian living that absolutely thrills my heart is realizing how one blessing, perhaps one answer to prayer, is really only a portion of a whole set of blessings all delicately and lovingly designed by God to touch many, many people.  And because God works in infinite ways, what about those occasions when He calls us to act quickly, when not every new idea is a years-ahead preview?  Suddenly our constant prayer and study of the Bible become all the more important.  I want to know God all the while, before and during and after each new idea, asking Him to make my decisions His.  Lord, is this new idea from You?  Don’t let me get carried away with it simply out of my own enjoyment.  Keep me waiting till You deem the time best.  Lead my decisions.

A retreat at the cross

We had a whole slew of differences.  We had a gymnastics coach, an interpreter for the deaf, and a tree trimmer and a fence builder.  We had a hair stylist, a production manager, a history professor, and a guitar salesman.  Few knew the same occupation.  We studied, we sang, we prayed and told stories of God.  We played ping pong, dominoes, charades, and ate loads of brownies and popcorn.  All the while, the Lord knitted people together.  Some of us arrived without knowing each others’ names.  And as we spent time together, our roles did occasionally change.  The gymnastics coach led line-dancing for those who wanted to twirl while they sang.  Our friend who was trained as a social worker became an on-the-spot marriage counselor.  Our science teacher became a dramatist.  Some speakers became listeners.  Our differences became likenesses as we served each other.  We heard how our friend who had been a drug addict found peace through knowing Christ.  We heard how one friend had once preferred aloneness but now found the company of people enjoyable and helpful.  One who had felt outcast was blessed to find acceptance now.  And I’m pretty sure none of us knew that our friend who is blind had an enjoyment for playing drums, and the fact that he felt the freedom to pick up the sticks to play with the band that night inspired us all.  …  The Lord has all kinds of reasons for bringing people together.  Those unemployed by society’s standards can be wonderfully employed by the Lord—no paycheck required.  Our cook may keep cooking.  Our teacher’s assistant may still work at a school.  Our nursing student may practice nursing for 30 years.  But no matter our formal training or lack thereof, the Lord has additional roles in mind.  The Lord loves to use people who are willing to follow Him and deny the what-if’s that torment the human brain when we don’t know the whole scope of a task.  He’s looking for people who will risk their human embarrassment to delve into a role He may not entirely reveal at the beginning.  He loves for us to commit to Him without looking at our bank accounts and for us to prioritize His desires higher than our own comfort.  We can find peace in knowing the Lord holds us in the palm of His hand, and His hand does not falter.  In fact, He has inscribed us on the palms of His hands (Isaiah 49:15).  Our common ground with people is the cross of Jesus Christ, and it’s exciting to see how God connects people with Him in mind.  More important than what we do is who we are as children of God.  Ours was a wonderful weekend retreat.

Singing from the depths

Something new happened when our jail choir rehearsed one particular weekend.  The voices resonated so fully that my feet tingled.  I had to curl my toes to make sure the nerves in my feet were still working.  The lyrics of “I Will Rise” suggested such love and yearning for the Lord that the moment left me almost numb.  And I love to relive this wonderful experience that happened in a jail--a place that some say encompasses the darkest darkness.  So how is it that God brings good from bad?  Why are thousands of inspiring songs rooted in misery and heartache?  What about the spirituals sung in the midst of slavery?  Do people sing to help pass the time?  Or is it because singing can replace anxiety?  Ultimately, God loves to rescue us.  At our lowest low may be the time we’re willing to look up to Him.  The rest of the time we tend to frolic through life on our own terms.  Last summer, my husband and I found ourselves in a huge legal mess that we didn’t understand, yet because of this mess, we sought the Lord fervently.  We wouldn’t have chosen the circumstances for ourselves, but the result of holding close to the Lord was a blessing all the same.  It’s from that low point, at that time when life looks desperately bleak, that our view becomes more simplistic.  Movies and electronic gadgets don’t satisfy anymore.  Our perspective has trimmed down to life, death, bread, and water.  We’re forced to ponder and pray and wait on the Lord.  Our lowest lows are not altogether bad.

The office

I met a man who worked in an office.  Nothing unusual, except for the fact that he worked in the office even on a day he designated for vacation.  He said he had nothing better to do. …  So I stopped to think.  How sad was his comment.  But is that me?  Am I ever uncomfortable with empty time?  Am I restless when things are unstructured?  How do I handle new circumstances?  Usually I can think of an endless list of fun things to do, yet I lack the time to do them all.  Honestly I love the ordinary day, and I generally view life as vibrant and exciting, especially when God throws me a creative curve I didn’t expect.  But I can recall days when I’ve opted for the road of familiarity.  One summer day, I didn’t want to exert the mental energy to learn some new guitar chords, so I played a familiar tune on the piano instead.  And I probably played it numerous times, hoping the guitar-playing idea that nagged my brain would leave by the time I finished at the piano.  On a different occasion, I remember debating whether to go talk to my new neighbor, erroneously entertaining the thought that if I went to talk once, I wouldn’t have the time and energy to check on her regularly, so why bother in the beginning.  And sometimes I’ve felt exhausted at the mere mention of planning a vacation, so consequently I’ve abandoned the whole notion and opted for staying at home.  So, yes, I am somewhat like my friend on the bus who spent his vacation working at his office.  Yet I know deep down that the Lord has given me wonderfully exciting experiences that came from stepping outside the norm and following through with what can feel humanly risky.  Christianity is not a life of laziness and selfish ways.  But if we find ourselves in those modes, God will forgive upon our asking.  And He will supply our courage to restart and bless us for having sought Him.

One day becomes one month

A particular phone call last week delivered a huge blessing.  I’d been praying for the friend who called me, as we had watched her outpatient surgery transform into a month-long hospital stay.  Complications of infection and excruciating pain were at the forefront.  How was all this happening?  Yet we continued to pray.  Then came her phone call.  At a moment when I sat on the couch and had no idea the voice on the phone would be hers, I was amazed.  Not surprised, but amazed to see how the Lord had been working all along.  My friend’s voice now had energy, and I could hear her sense of humor.  Through her days of heavy sedation and subsequent surgeries, the Lord had sustained my friend, and this was a remarkable milestone. …  I love surprises.  Better than that, I love to be amazed at the Lord.  If the idea of prayer is new for you, Matthew 6 offers some insight.  May the Lord give you an immense excitement for prayer.   May He bless you to witness Him at work. 

A prayer for protection

The seating arrangement became eerie.  I felt a hand squeeze my upper arm, and I turned toward the man on my right.  With his head tilted completely sideways and his chest leaning forward, his neck was twisted tightly to glare up at me.  His ogling eyes zoomed further in my direction, and I was soon uncomfortable.  His mouth was moving, and I assumed he wanted to say something, though I could hear only a scratchy sound.  Some kind of a high pitch filtered softly through his voice.  Looking at him, I shook my head to indicate I did not understand.  Then I returned my gaze to the front of the bus.  Yet the murmur of his voice continued, and I felt another nudge of his leg.  I had tried to ignore the first nudge, in hope that it was unintentional.   Now I looked at the man again, and the whole aura was becoming even more disconcerting.  His almost ethereal whisper pressed louder as he said, “Come on! You got to have 50 cents!”  I motioned with my hand and verbally emphasized “No” and likewise shook my head.  And silently I asked the Lord to protect me.  My eyes quickly scanned the bus for options.  Hardly a seat was vacant for moving away from the man, as we’d hosted an active turnstile of passengers.  The man's increasingly invasive ways seemed unending.  Finally, I walked up to ask the driver if my stop would be announced.  I didn’t want to make a mistake my first time on this route.  Turns out the driver was quite the conversationalist, lending me to stand near him till reaching my stop.  I figured God used the driver to deliver me.  …  Overall, my distinct impression was that Satan was messing with me.  For 4 years, God has used our city buses to connect me with people for His wonderful purposes.  What God uses for good, Satan can attempt to use for bad.  Here now I did not want the bad to dissuade me from fulfilling my call.  Subsequent to this particularly unfun incident, a different bus trip led me to the immense pleasure of telling someone about Jesus.  I do realize there may be a day when my bus trips cease.  But not this week.

Movies & comments

Just watched Julie & Julia.  Pretty cute.  A friend told me it was about blogging.  And a line in the movie did set something straight for me.  At times, I’ve pondered what I might change in this blog.  Do I need to personalize it somehow?  I’ve wondered if you as a reader are connecting with the stories.  Is the way I’m writing too distant?  Then in the movie I hear Julie say, “What do you think a blog is?  It’s me, me, me day after day.”  Well, that is one thing I don’t want.  I don’t want a blog all about me.  And so I go back to the idea of personalizing.  Readers, please know I started this whole thing because I sensed the Lord prompting.  And He could certainly include you in the development process.  If there’s something you would find helpful in this blog, please send me a comment or an email.  I have prayed for you, though we haven't met.  I would consider it a blessing and entirely fun to hear from you.

Unseen

Morphine did not erase the underlying anxiety from her surgical complication.  I visited my friend in the hospital.  As I sat on the side of her bed, this sweet friend asked me to pray.  I held her hand and asked for the Lord’s presence ultimately.  Beeping sounds and blinking lights don’t make for calmness.  Even the dings of the elevators remind us something’s wrong and we’re not at home.  I hoped for the peace of prayer to ease my friend’s mind, and indeed she said later that she felt the Lord’s peace.  Yet when opening my eyes after our prayer, I noticed someone standing beyond my right shoulder.  A member of the surgical team had been waiting while we prayed.  Her presence was unanticipated by us, yet I was happy she was there for however long.  Then the opportunity to pray broadened to include blessings upon this surgical team member.  The Lord’s orchestration again.  We simply go about living as He teaches, and He handles the connecting of people.  Unseen at first.

Not just paper & ink

Try it.  I just wonder. … It has happened in a McDonald’s.  It’s happened on the city bus.  It happened this week in a public school teacher’s lounge.  Simply an open Bible.  It attracts.  People say, “Are you taking a class?”  “What are you studying?”  “I’ve been meaning to go to church.”  Without an audible word from me, the Bible inspires conversation.  Sometimes I study when I’m waiting for a friend.  Sometimes I read in order for the Lord to calm my unrest.  Consequently He speaks – and to more souls than the one person turning the pages.

Acoustic rehab

We became troubadours.  Strum the guitar here.  Sing a song there.  First in the physical therapy room with a patient who liked rock-n-roll.  Then down the hallway to meet a lady whose friends came to visit, and they all welcomed the music.  A few doors down, another lady was so happy she could hardly wait to tell her family she was personally serenaded in the hospital.  And when we met a lady who spoke mostly Spanish, we were immensely blessed to find in our music bag a copy of “Supe Que Me Amabas,” at which point I knew the Lord had packed our bag that day.  We did meet one lady who could not speak audibly at all, and so we loved her smile all the more.  From “Bless the Broken Road” to “I’ve Got a River of Life.”  From Martina McBride to Todd Agnew to Randy Travis.  The Lord inspired it all.  Isaiah 61 mentions the brokenhearted and the captive.  The Lord sends us to them, and blessings abound.