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.