Unwonted invitation

Do you ever hesitate to invite someone in fear they’ll decline?  I mean, how disappointing would it be to invite a new friend for coffee, or how embarrassing could it be to try to gather a group together, but in the end no one comes?  I’m hoping this week’s story encourages you.  A couple of weeks ago, I invited some friends to my house to study.  I hadn’t seen these friends this summer, and I was eager to brew my new pack of Community Coffee and laugh with these girls and seriously study all at the same time.  But one by one, their emails replied no, can’t come, not this time.  The first said, “Sorry, Linda, but I’m going on vacation.”  The next one said, “Yes, I’ll be there,” but in the end she didn’t come because her children were sick.  Still another friend wrote, “I’m intending to come, Linda, but I’m waiting for a certain phone call that will determine whether I can or not,” and evidently her phone call didn’t allow her to come.  All the while, I held to my lesson plan, hoping for even just one friend to be available, as I had prayed before ever emailing the invitation and didn’t want to abandon the date and topic I felt the Lord gave me.  Thursday night I stayed up late to fine-tune some teaching points on 2 Samuel 9.  Friday morning came, it was 10:30, and no one arrived.  The clock hit 11 AM, and still no one.  The house surely felt empty.  My heart felt a little hollow too.  Yet there was no point in sitting around just being sad.  And then around 11:15, an interesting thing happened.  The phone rang, and I noticed it was a friend from church.  Often he asks me to substitute-teach, and so my brain started to race in excitement, though I didn’t want to get too excited too soon.  This friend explained he had been sick with allergies, and would I teach his class on Sunday?  Almost jumping through the phone, I exclaimed, “Yes, I’ll be happy to teach!”  And in reality my heart had already leaped its first tall building in a single bound.  I had this freshly unused lesson so eager to be taught.  I felt the corners of my mouth stretching into the hugest of smiles to realize 2 Samuel had just found its new time and place.  And come Sunday, our lesson proved wonderfully fruitful.  All the way through, the Lord kept giving insightful discussion across the class.   Afterward I pondered the whole sequence of events.  Why did the Lord lead me to invite the Friday group in the first place?  He could have bypassed that invitation, given that none of them attended anyway.  In staring at my calendar, I realized He timed things perfectly to have me stay up late Thursday to study because Friday and Saturday already held music commitments.  Certainly He knew the schedule of things.  Perhaps I invited the Friday group because someone there felt lonely.  Maybe the Lord blessed them through the invitation to know they were thought of and included and loved, even though they couldn't come.  I do know I was blessed in the thrill of seeing the Lord connect multiple dots along a road that seemed to meander here and there.  Isaiah 55 talks about the Lord’s word never returning void, and so all the more reason we have to proceed when He leads us to offer invitations.  Regardless of any outcome visible or invisible to us, He speaks with large-scale purpose, bringing to fruition as He sees fit.

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.

A radio blessing

Have you ever hosted a guest who stirred up some tension?  I don’t mean something negative necessarily, but just as conversation progresses, suddenly it’s time to address an issue.  Recently I invited a friend to stay at our house for a few days, hoping to offer her a respite from her heavy family situation.  My husband consented to the idea, and truly we were delighted to help.  We had fun cooking dinner together.  We talked; we laughed.  In this case, our guest didn’t say anything hurtful or keep us up too late at night.  Neither did she offend any neighbor or pester our cat.  In fact, she was quite respectful, and we love her dearly to this day.  But tension arose in realizing how she lives at her house.  As the tension grew, I sensed the Lord drawing me to address the issue.  I asked Him, “Lord, how do I handle this?”  My friend’s family was not my family.  I had no ground of exact circumstances.  I didn’t want any words to appear uncaring or even possibly construed as a reprimand.  The next morning I awoke and read through my inbox of emails.  There sat the day’s program listing for KSLR, which is a local Christian radio station.  Joni Eareckson Tada would be talking today about not letting circumstances rule daily life.  My heart fluttered to realize that this could be the Lord’s answer to my plea.  Joni speaks from circumstances similar to my friend’s, and certainly if the Lord was leading me to share this radio program, He knows it’s the perfect thing to do.  But would my friend be awake in time to hear this message on the radio?  I prayed again, “Lord, if this is You leading me, I’m asking You to set the timing here.”  And soon my friend walked into the living room, and the Lord guided our conversation so we could listen to Joni on KSLR.  The tension had been uncomfortable, and I had hoped for more of a carefree pajama party than any kind of instructional time, but that’s not what the Lord called into play.  His plan brought greater depth to this respite for my sweet friend, and I love Him for that.  In John 16:13, Jesus says, “But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all truth.  He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come.”

Parachutes & paracaidas

Parachutes and Bibles.  How do they relate?  It’s an exciting story.  In March, I attended a Voice of the Martyrs event that told about Bibles being delivered into Colombian jungles via parachute.  I came home to research the idea a bit and came across info for crafting these parachutes.  Matthew 28 and Mark 16 both talk about us taking the Gospel to all nations, the latter giving the words of Jesus in verse 15, “Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation.”  That includes the guerrillas in the Colombian jungles.  That’s why we’re talking parachutes, because sometimes you can hardly reach an area by any other means.  And in this case, there happens to be a tangible way for us all to help in the effort.  A kit of materials for making 10 parachutes is available from VOM, and this past Friday our church group was immensely blessed to construct our first set of 10.  Even for people like me who aren’t too craftsy, it’s quite a manageable task, and having the camaraderie of friends makes it altogether fun.  A pilot named Russell drops these parachutes from his airplane, and each parachute carries a Bible and other Christian literature and a solar-powered radio that tunes to either of 2 Christian stations, one being music and the other being the spoken word.  If the parachute catches in the trees on the way down, a station on the radio will trigger, and the sound will attract the people.  The canopy on these paracaidas (Spanish for parachutes) reads “Dios es amor,” which translates “God is love.”  Perhaps Russell will speak at a Voice of the Martyrs event near you; maybe check the speaker schedule at persecution.com.  Thank you, Lord, for giving the ingenuity to devise these paracaidas, and may Your light shine through them.

A Luke 14 pizza feast

Put the Food Network and HGTV together, and you’ve got a pretty good set of ideas for your home.  They talk about meals and events I’ve never thought of before, and they make DIY tasks look possible and even fun.  But I’m unaware of them ever telling how to host a feast quite like Luke 14 does.  In this chapter, verses 12-14 in particular, Jesus says, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid.  But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed...”  In verse 13 where the NIV says banquet, the KJV says feast, which is how I first read it last week.  The verses rang in my ear for several days, and I figured the Lord had a feast in mind for me.  But how do I do this?  Whom do I invite?  On Sunday, I sat in church with these verses still floating in my head, and the idea hit me to invite a guy who was sitting across the aisle.  I explained to my husband about Luke 14 this week and ran the lunch idea by him.  I offered the invitation to our church-mate on the aisle and was so happy for him to accept, but then I wondered, “Lord, is this a feast for just the 3 of us?”  I walked into the hallway and found my husband talking to someone, whom he promptly told me he had invited to lunch as well.  Now our feast was for 4.  And so we agreed upon pizza and proceeded in our separate cars to the nearby Pizza Hut.  My husband drove, and my heart danced the whole way to recount how this occasion was developing.  It was a case of literally living out the Bible.  Blessings poured amidst our afternoon conversation, and we learned about some business concerns for our first guest.  Time to pray with him fit wonderfully atop our empty Meat Lover’s Pizza tray.  We had the added blessing too of looking forward to seeing our new friends again the next week.  It was as if watching each separate link, each separate event, adding one by one into God's perfect chain of events.  Almost effortless on my part it seemed, having simply begun one ordinary day while sitting on an ordinary couch to open the pages of the Bible, which is forever extraordinary. 

The juror's stunning phone call

Most people dread jury duty.  Most of us dread going to court.  To defend a traffic ticket or even to prosecute, it’s a hassle.  It’s tense.  But last Sunday I heard an inspiring story about a juror.  This would be someone who didn’t wriggle out of her civic duty.  It was a custody case involving a mom, her ex-husband, and their 2 children.  The mom told the story, and she’s a friend for whom I have been blessed to pray.  I had seen her in agony through the ups and downs of this trial, and now almost a year after its conclusion, my friend receives a stunning phone call.  It’s a weekday, the phone rings at work, any number of co-workers could have answered, but curiously she’s the one who reaches for this call.  The caller had seen the name of my friend’s company on a vehicle just driving around town.  She didn’t remember my friend’s name, but she remembered the company name from being mentioned in court, and she chanced the call.  She explained her role as a juror and how the Lord compelled her to pray throughout the trial and even into the months that followed.  She wanted my friend to know she was prayed for.  Often people change jobs in a year’s time, or companies are so big or privacy issues so tight that there’s no way of figuring out who somebody is.  Yet the Lord connected these 2 people.  He gave uninterrupted time amidst a busy office to convey some huge encouragement, and today we sat in awe to hear about it.  It was evidence of the Lord's love having no limit.  That's for you, for me, and for each of His children.  May you be encouraged.

Flags of the world

I love seeing the flags of the world.  Sometimes it’s at theme parks or at historical sites where they’re flying in the wind.  Sometimes it’s in a sanctuary where they hang neatly from the ceiling or they’re carried on poles in a processional.  They remind me of how small I am in this world and yet how intimately God loves His creations.  We can be the lone ranger on the remotest of islands, and God knows our exact spot.  We can be one in a million in the most crowded of cities, and He reaches us with ease.  I visited San Francisco one time and saw how every nook and cranny had someone living in it.  Deep into one building, past the apartments visible to the outside, I realized there were layers and layers of living spaces more obscure.  How does a realtor even know what’s available to rent when they’re layered so densely?  But no matter our surroundings, God is there.  And so for the sake of our different territories, we call to God and wait on Him and thank Him for saving us from our own human nature.  To the many in 19 different countries who visited this blog since May, I welcome you.  Matthew 28:19-20 says, “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.  And surely I am with you always to the very end of the age.”  To Argentina, Australia, Canada, China, Colombia, Finland, France, Germany, Hungary, Indonesia, Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, USA, Vietnam—we are in this together.  May you know the Lord's presence today within the uniqueness of where you serve. 

Chronicle of an inexperienced tiler

I had never tiled a floor.  The idea was close to defeating me emotionally, and I saw no real reason for it to be that way.  Over the weekend, we laid out the whole roomful of tiles, including the specially-cut ones to fit around the tub and the toilet and up against the walls.  Next would be the messy part with the mortar.  Should I wait for my husband or go it alone?  I prayed.  And I prayed.  And I prayed.  “Lord, am I supposed to tile this bathroom?”  I gathered supplies:  sponge, bucket, rubber mallet, gloves.  I double-checked my Youtube sites, and momentum was gaining.  I figured if I read the instructions carefully for mixing the mortar, that would be the very same thing my husband would do, so why not proceed on my own?  Surely I could calculate proportions for liquid and dry, though I couldn’t stop imagining the magnitude of gloppy, gooey gunk this could be if I measured wrong.  I found the dolly to carry my 50-lb. bag to the back porch.  I took the bathroom scale out there to weigh everything for mixing since I wouldn’t use the 50 lbs. all at once.  I grabbed an old wooden fork for stirring; it was one I could throw away afterward.  Momentum continued to build, and I was ready to mix my first batch of mortar.  Hours passed, and certainly it was sticky work.  By the time my husband came home, I had a good case of leg pain from all the squatting and kneeling and standing back up, but it all seemed to be working.  The Slowest Tiler in the West appeared to actually be putting together a tile floor.  At 10 PM, we closed up shop.  Experienced friends who spurred us onward and a friend who loaned us his wet saw had all taken part, and we had made it.  But this isn't just a DIY how-to story, because beyond Home Depot videos and beyond Lowe’s, it was the Lord who kept me in the game.  He answered my continuous prayers and kept me from panic and fear and wanting to quit.  This tiling became a confidence-builder for me.  And I thank the Lord for His presence, for when we experience Him in one place, we grow to rely on Him for the next.  In Isaiah 41:10, the Lord says, "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

Halfway Herbert & the lady at New Life

“Do you know if Brady Boyd’s new book is out?”  I replied to her, “I’m sorry I don’t.”  My husband and I had entered New Life that Sunday as visitors.  Not knowing exactly what was behind any of the many doors from the parking lot, we found ourselves at the church bookstore.  The word discount on a sign pulled me across the room, and 10 minutes of extra time allowed me to start scanning the front table.  The lady who asked about the book explained that Brady Boyd is a pastor who walked alongside New Life in their years of healing from scandal.  I thought of the shootings in Columbine and Aurora and last year’s grass fires and a whole depth of injury that Colorado has endured.  She asked, “Where are you from?”  “San Antonio,” I said.  I spent a minute sharing about blessings that have come in visiting churches and witnessing the Lord at work away from home.  In fact, a large part of today’s blessings came through this new friend at the book table.  She was my first acquaintance with New Life and the welcoming voice of the church for me.  She was the personal connection that stepped out from the large congregation.  Her casual conversation spoke of real-life Christianity that let me see again how Jesus-followers are scattered all throughout our world, and the Lord uses us to encourage each other.  Yet many yearn for a church home, and I think of friends who've become disenchanted by the imperfections of the people inside the churches, and I pondered what it is actually we seek on Sunday mornings.  If we don’t identify with the pastor, that’s not necessarily bad.  If we don’t connect with every song, that doesn’t have to be reason to leave.  Maybe there’s a book table where we’re supposed to stand and talk with visitors about Christ and how He delivers us from the trials of everyday life.  I didn't sense the role of the book lady was even a formal role, as she simply was a book scanner like me, yet she was ready to share life with whomever.  This Sunday the teaching from the pulpit proved to be thought-provoking and wonderful, as did the music, though it was through the gentle manner of my friend at the table that the Lord first ushered blessing.  The fact that I had fun in finding a half-price copy of Halfway Herbert for my nephew was a bonus.  May the Lord give us joy for the circumstances He creates.

Hurricanes of Santo Domingo

Did I hear her right?  “I can handle hurricanes,” she said.  But is that possible?  I looked back over my shoulder to watch her lips reiterate the words.  In my mind, hurricanes are these ominously powerful things that only God can tame.  Yet my friend explained her childhood in the Dominican Republic.  Pointing midway up on the calf of her leg, she talked about the water level in her house.  Such was common occurrence after hurricanes in her city of Santo Domingo.  She remembers making paper boats with her brother and floating them inside the house, as her parents engaged the children in games to stave off any fear.  And it was at that point in her story that my brain froze because I couldn’t fathom playing games in the midst of a hurricane.  How would the emotions relax enough to actually play a game?  But then the idea translated in my head, and I remembered how the Lord calmed me one day in the midst of a dangerously heated argument.  Witnessing the abusive nature of one particular person, my body began to tremble, yet the Lord directed me and gave presence of mind to lead people away from the danger.  Though I trembled, I didn’t fear.  So perhaps I can imagine games and toys after all.  My friend said hurricanes come with warning, whereas tornadoes may not, and that's why she can “handle” hurricanes.  She's familiar with their approach and the aftermath for those living in concrete houses.  Still for me, I contemplated issues of contentment in this world.  In Philippians 4:12-13, Paul correlates contentment with finding strength in the Lord, regardless of situation, whether hungry or well-fed, whether living in plenty or in want.  Given Paul’s many shipwrecks and imprisonments and all the stones, rods, and lashings he withstood, surely he knows about finding strength in the Lord.  And I ask the Lord to give you peace today, that in contentment we may float paper boats amidst our storms.