To Voskamp's thousand

“You can’t handle the truth!”  That was Jack’s line, with the burning glare and that unrelenting arrogance.  Today I revise Jack’s words on account of something Ann Voskamp says.  In Chapter 1 of One Thousand Gifts, she talks about the sin of ingratitude.  God told Adam he was free to eat from any tree in the garden, except for one.  And Adam chose that one.  So we wonder, why did he allow himself to be lured to the forbidden?  With an abundance that pleased the eye and also the health of the body, why?  It’s like the time I had a shoulder ache.  The pain worsened and worsened and eventually preoccupied my every thought, and I pleaded for the Lord to take it away.  Then one day it was gone.  And with it also disappeared my fervency of prayer.  The Lord had illustrated for me how He brings good from bad and how without the bad pain, I wandered away.  Generally people don’t handle the good very well.  Jack would say, “You can’t handle the good!”  Our provisions are set, our worries should be none, yet we carelessly wander away from the Lord, so He sometimes allows a point of pain to re-center our need of Him.  Our eyes reopen to the realization of our nakedness, our insufficiency on our own, our personal lack.  Hence the importance to be thankful.  Let us not slide away.  May we not require the Lord to illustrate again with pain.  How many times do we relive the fall of Genesis 3?

Coffeehouse catastrophe?

Aaahhhhhh!  What did I say?!#*  I panicked.  Two friends invited the new barista to come to church, but what inadvertent words had slipped out of my mouth?  We like to arrive the coffeehouse early to see what's going on and maybe talk a little before we play.  This time I heard the barista call my name, and his finger pointed to the calendar listing our names for music that night.  But there was also another name.  And a silent gasp fluttered across my throat.  Really it came when I imagined friends rushing across town to join us, and I felt bad they might enter the door and realize they rushed for nothing because we weren’t even playing yet.  The barista offered to ask the other guitarist to reschedule, but my husband reassured, “Don’t worry.  Let him play; then we’ll take a turn.”  So we spent the next minutes greeting friends and explaining, and honestly we enjoyed the longer-than-usual time to visit at the start.  I remember saying aloud, “Maybe the Lord has something in this.”  We sang a favorite Matt Maher tune, and the night filled fast with fun and energy.  And still we were glad to have those somber and thought-provoking moments that good songs and stories bring.  But now it was Saturday morning, and my brain was in a different gear.  I was nervous to recall that gasp when the barista told me.  Was there any part of me that conveyed anger at the situation?  Any facial expression or words I regret?  How often does adversity reveal the truth of our faith?  When I said “Maybe the Lord has something in this,” I hadn’t imagined He had a lesson in humility presenting personally to me.  So I prayed.  And I prayed again.  “Lord, I ask that nothing about my reaction last night dissuade our new barista from this invitation to church.  If there was any hint of anger or any grimace of frustration on my face, let him not remember it.  May he remember Your name and know Your presence above all.”  Philippians 4:4-7 says, “Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again;  Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  May He guide us to consider Him and others before ourselves.  And how I thank Him for standing in the gap on my account.