A frog in the throat

I wanted to listen about the zaroah, but I couldn’t.  A sudden onslaught of temptation had infiltrated my brain.  Next would be the afikomen and a prayer, and I was panicked.  This lump of something in my throat was not clearing, and time was short.  For many days and weeks, I had been asking the Lord to sing through me on this occasion, as He had given me great joy for this song.  I had imagined His voice resounding freely and fully into every nook and cranny of every heart in attendance, and yet now in this moment of panic, again I prayed silently, “Lord, may You let nothing in my throat obstruct Your voice tonight.”  I could feel warmth spreading at my neck, which usually means red splotches of nervousness infecting my skin.  My husband and I stood to approach the steps, my eyes peripherally seeing him pick up his guitar, and he began with a beautiful introduction.  I almost didn’t want to sing those first lyrics.  I had hoped so big and with such great anticipation, and all I had envisioned for “Creation Song” was a group of worshippers spellbound to reconsider the magnificence of the Lord.  Anything less was not appealing.  Yet that first verse came, and then the second.  To my amazement, I was noticing an inspiring connection within the congregation.  Their eyes didn’t blink, and their postures stood at attention, and their lips came to join in the latter choruses.  Despite my fears, despite the thoughts that had felt all jumbled in my head, the Lord had prevailed.  He had most certainly covered my voice with His.  And the reactions afterward confirmed that indeed the Holy Spirit had hovered among us.  At that particular seder that our friends call "Jesus, Lamb of God Passover," the Lord had won—once and for all—and again.

Time for tennis shoes

I would much rather wear flip-flops.  They’re just so easy to put on, whereas the tennis shoes require socks and tying laces and all that preparation that us non-exercise people associate with sweat.  I actually do enjoy walking, especially when I meet up with the orange cat down the street, and I did enjoy trimming trees last weekend and shoveling dirt, but I never look forward to sweat dripping in my eyes and down my back.  Yet yesterday I dreaded something even more.  I dreaded my doctor’s appointment because it reminded me that I still had not lost the weight I had intended to lose.  I fare real well for about 3 weeks.  Then invariably it seems the weight hasn’t fallen off fast enough, and I succumb to the temptation “Why bother anymore?”  But on my way home from the doctor yesterday, I determined to restart.  Alas, I will not quit, even if it’s my hundredth attempt!  This aspect of exercise, or the lack thereof, is certainly one of my trials.  It's on the same shelf with the co-worker who challenges our every nerve and the wayward child for whom we grieve.  They’re all situations that stare us down and threaten our well-being.  Some lend widespread angst, and some stay more internal, but they’re all trials.  Yet the Lord loves each soul in the midst of the turmoil, and there’s blessing in store as He fine-tunes and reshapes us through these fires that singe.  And here now I endeavor to begin again.  One of my favorite memories is of a middle school track meet where one hurdler barely stood taller than his hurdles.  This young man approached his first hurdle with great gusto, yet down he fell.  That same gusto took him to the second hurdle, though down he fell again.  Then the crowd began to cringe and shield their faces in anticipation of what might come with the third.  But evidently the pain was more in watching, for rarely do we witness such unabashed intent to run a race that appeared impossible from the start.  This young man’s perseverance brought roars of applause from all ages, even from those who had ridiculed at the start why anyone his size would ever attempt such a race.  We found ourselves wiping away oceans of tears that gushed of admiration, as this young man drew a standing ovation before he ever crossed the finish line.  He had wholeheartedly aimed to jump each and every hurdle, yet proceeding to knock down each and every one, never once appearing defeated.  And it’s to that same perseverance that I aspire, not because my doctor tells me exercise is good or because all the fitness magazines say so, but ultimately because verses such as Hebrews 12 tell me the Lord wants us up and running.  I want Him to be my reason, my incentive.  I’ll keep the flip-flops for later, but I am now walking to the closet to set those tennis shoes in motion.

A different Everest

What is the shape of the human will?  It’s big, I know.  And conquering it can appear exhausting, much like climbing Everest.  Yet Everest always looks like Everest.  The human will seems to adapt in size.  Last week it was rectangularly shaped in the form of a DSW shoe coupon that I insisted on using.  This week it was blue and white and shaped like the blanket I selfishly grabbed for finally catching some sleep.  Ours is a will that is self-centered.  It’s impure.  Sometimes it’s been to my own detriment that I’ve determined to have my way, such as one occasion when I wanted to stay angry at my husband.  The whole scenario backfired on me, leaving my stomach in knots and any sense of a productive day debilitated because I needlessly wanted to prove a point.  We can thank the Lord that while Jeremiah 17 says the human heart is deceitful, we also have Philippians 2 that says He works in us and through us to yield His good purpose.  Our natural condition is fallen and self-destructive, yet the Lord does not leave us alone.  He guides us to discern the many shapes of selfishness.  It's not an insurmountable mountain, and He refreshes us in the climb.  

Spanish — SMTWTFS

When the Lord led me to a Spanish congregation, I had little idea what would lie ahead.  I was curious and excited, though also uncertain, because all those years ago I had dropped out of high school Spanish when we were assigned Lluvia Roja.  I could conjugate verbs and pass vocabulary quizzes, but reading a whole book in Spanish?  No way.  I took one hall pass to the counselor’s office and transferred out.  Yet now with my new congregation, I was facing whole conversations and whole sermons in Spanish, and what would happen?  Would my limited textbook Spanish work at all with the real-life Mexican vocabulary, or the Tex-Mex, or the Puerto Rican?  They had advertised for a guitar player, and soon we changed from our English congregation, bringing my husband to carry his guitar down the hall to the Spanish group.  They were different rooms in the same building.  Different languages with the same purpose.  And I loved it very quickly.  Each week they patiently lent me new words, and even when I asked “¿Cómo se dice…?” for the thousandth time, they flinched not once to translate me yet another word into Spanish.  They spoke some English, yet Spanish was comfortable and close to their heart, as was English for me.  I soon studied the Bible in Spanish on Wednesdays and brought a friend from Puerto Rico.  When a small group on Sundays prayed in Spanish, they graciously allowed me room to pray in English.  I soon found myself singing “Rey de Justicia” during the week at work and realized the Lord was touching my heart deeply.  I experienced over and over the Lord’s presence without my fully knowing the spoken language.  A host of blessings far outweighed my occasions of feeling like I couldn’t learn Spanish fast enough.  Yet still now, in these most recent months, I’ve realized more.  The Lord has positioned me to speak Spanish on the streets when I’ve prayed in front of an abortion center.  He has supplied me words in Spanish for visiting patients in the hospital.  He has given me enough Spanish to welcome Spanish-speakers to our English study group.  He has used my endeavors toward Spanish to inspire the same interest in some of my English-speaking friends who want me to toss them some new Spanish words just for fun.  When I ride the city buses, I can now converse more in both languages.  The two have seemed to mix around in lots of directions.  And only after I asked to announce to the Spanish congregation about 40 Days for Life, did I realize I hadn’t been nervous about formally speaking in Spanish.  All this to say I love how the Lord takes us down unknown roads.  Unknown only to us, that is, though we’re entirely secure in His hands.  He comforts us along the way.  He supplies us—7 days a week—SMTWTFS.  He encourages and enlightens with each step.

Among the inanimate

People, yes.  Land, yes.  Inanimate things?  Man-made things?  Is there anything God cannot affect?  Anything beyond His reach?  Following my post on how Jesus’ death and resurrection affected the land, here’s some food for thought.  In Exodus 7, upon the Lord’s instruction, Aaron threw down his staff in front of Pharaoh, and it became a snake.  In Ezekiel 37, the Lord caused a vast army of dry bones to start rattling around.  He attached tendons to the bones, covered them with skin, and breathed life into them.  He brought the bones to stand on their feet, and it’s a scene that wonderfully boggles my brain.  Today I can attest first-handedly to the Lord affecting my TV.  Sometimes I let that 26” box of noise talk too much.  One time, looking out for my best interest, the Lord turned off my TV.  The fact that Little House on the Prairie was a wholesome show doesn’t change the fact that I’d allowed that box too much air time.  One could attribute an electrical reason for the screen suddenly blacking out, but I knew it was the Lord.  I’d sensed ahead that I shouldn’t have turned on the TV.  Also I think of a friend who prayed for her clothes dryer to restart, and it did.  I remember as well the many occasions I’ve prayed for the Lord to reveal lost car keys.  In a panic, combing entire areas multiple times, whether campuses or classrooms or vehicles, finally in complete exasperation lifting the floor mat on the driver’s side one last time, there finding the keys in plain sight.  Indeed the Lord does work among the inanimate.  There’s nothing He cannot move.  There’s nothing into which He cannot breathe life.