God, my TV man

Last Tuesday, I had a problem.  My TV wouldn’t work.  I pressed the little silver Apple remote a bunch of times, but no Netflix.  Usual tendency would be to get frustrated, but the Lord kept me from it, as I remembered an experience He gave years ago.  One day I watched Little House on the Prairie and suddenly the TV blacked out.  It’s not a unique story really, except for the fact that I knew ahead of time I shouldn’t be watching TV.  Even if it’s a good show, the Lord had already let me know it’s not what He had in mind.  So fast-forward to last week when Netflix wouldn’t work, and the idea quickly comes that the Lord is serving as my TV man once again.  I knew Law & Order wasn’t what He had in mind for me, but I had taken the lazy road and thought, “I’ll watch this for 15 minutes while I comb out my hair and get ready.”  Nope.  It didn’t work then, and it’s not working now.  I needed to press forward with my curriculum writing.  I may have thought a 15-minute sabbatical would rest my brain, but not true.  So I pressed on, and the Lord provided energy and gave rest all at once, just as I needed.  After my curriculum meeting that afternoon, I returned home, and my husband turned on Netflix just fine.  Romans 8:26-27 says, “. . . the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.  And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.”  I realize these verses talk about prayer, but I figure somewhere in all the ways the Lord intercedes, He certainly has the capacity to serve as my TV man when I lack the discipline myself.  When I falter, He takes the reigns.  And I love Him for that.

Bonanza & the Bible

Funerals are rough.  They hold all kinds of emotions.  When my brother-in-law passed away last month, we felt the whole gamut.  As people exited after the funeral, a neighbor stopped to introduce himself.  “My name is . . .  I watched westerns with your brother, and we read the Bible.”  He smiled to continue, “When Bonanza came on, well, it was TV time.  Then later we’d go back and read.”  With not too many words, this neighbor had garnered my complete attention, and I posed to shake his hand in admiration.  He was a guy who spoke the name of the Lord in the ordinary day.  He included the Bible just casually in conversation with whomever he met.  It’s part of what John 15 says in the context of the vine and the branches.  “If you remain in me and my words remain in you . . .”  This neighbor kept God’s word remaining in him as he opened the Bible’s pages and invited others to join in.  It’s encouragement for all of us to not wait for Sundays to roll around as our only Jesus Day.  Jesus says too in verse 16, “. . . go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. . .”  And as our world desperately needs the name of Jesus the entire 7 days of the week, may the Lord give us joy for walking through the different doors of conversation He opens.  The more we talked that afternoon at the funeral home, the more I loved this neighbor who spent time with my brother-in-law.  They barbecued, they read the Bible, they prayed, and I smile to imagine all the Bonanza and Gunsmoke episodes they watched.

The toil of eulogy

Recently I wrote a eulogy.  Really the point of a eulogy is to highlight the good in someone’s life, though the task of writing one always seems unpleasant.  Subconsciously our brain applies the old Transitive Property from middle school math, which says, if eulogy = death, and death = sadness, then eulogy = sadness.  And we don't like sadness because of its emotional upheaval, so suddenly nobody looks forward to writing and delivering a eulogy.  And that’s what happened to me.  My mom asked me to write this eulogy.  She said, “Well, Linda, you like to write.”  And she’s right.  I do.  Sometimes.  But not this time.  I debated between notebook paper and computer.  I love yellow No. 2 pencils and plain old paper, but somehow I opened a Word document this time.  Actually the computer proved to be a good move, as I edited for 2-3 days.  When my brain was tired, the task meant lots of thesaurus work because slight distinctions in words can ease anxiety before it ever stirs.  The nuances of words, especially when people feel fragile already, can enable a heart to be willing to consider some genuine food for thought.  And it has been within these word choices that still now, 2 weeks later, I have realized the Lord surely guided those hours and days I toiled.  For moments that could have been painful, He gave gentle yet honest wording that He veiled in love.  For this whole occasion that no one enjoyed, simply because it dealt with death and all kinds of sadness, the Lord brought blessing.  In fact, His blessings were multilevel because I had not foreseen He would grow my writing for the sake of a eulogy.  Some say a writer’s goal should be book sales and money, but here I see how great is an opportunity to write someone’s eulogy.  We slow down, we turn off the TV, we think and rethink and seek the Lord.

Unblurred by Linus

Poor Charlie Brown.  He’s always in trouble with somebody.  People tell him he’s hopeless and dumb.  Lucy’s always calling him a blockhead.  The other kids chime in and laugh, and I feel for him.  At Christmastime, he’s on a mission to find a tree for the school play, and in frustration he throws his hands in the air and pleads, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?”  Young Linus drags his blue blanket to center stage and gives answer by reciting from the book of Luke.  Having found new inspiration, Charlie determines that despite public complaint and despite widespread commercialism, his bare little tree with the falling-off needles can serve well for the play after all.  But his attempt to add even a single red ornament causes the tip of the tree to droop over and hit the ground.  And right there is where I love Charlie Brown.  He droops, and his tree droops, and I droop at times.  I love Charlie because we row the same boat.  Charlie and I walk the same road.  We both need Jesus, and we both have a lot to thank Him for.  I thank the Lord for giving us a clean lens when our vision blurs.  I thank Him for lifting us out of the holes we dig ourselves into.  I thank Him for adorning us with unique and undeserved ornaments that reflect the brightness of His light.  I thank Him for sending us people like Linus who encourage and remind and lend love all-around.  And I thank Him for loving us first.  And for the talents of Charles M. Schulz and the purity of his cartoon message that I’d forgotten until my husband reminded me this year, I thank the Lord as well.  Sounds like good reason to celebrate.  Maybe just for fun a full-fledged round of the Snoopy dance.

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.

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.

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.