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.