Visitors

I had some guests this past weekend. VIP’s. My daughter and her boyfriend came home from IU for a visit.

I haven’t seen Lisa since August, so mentioning that I was looking forward to seeing her would be a gross understatement.

To celebrate her arrival, I kicked it into mom-mode, maid-mode, chef-mode, and any other mode that might help me get everything ready. I bought Lis her favorite lunch from Buffalo Wild Wings, loaded the frig with a few of her favorite recipes, scoured the house, and did a mountain of laundry in order to free up the washing machine so I could do her laundry when it arrived.

While she was sweet to thank me, I don’t think any of my efforts really impacted her one way or another. More than anything else, she seemed to appreciate the times we spent talking, laughing, and watching a movie together.

I tend to overdo. Endeavoring to please others and God, it is sometimes the simple thing, not the extravagant display which means more. Taking a minute to write a note or make a phone call usually has much greater impact than inviting 12 women to a 3 course meal around a perfectly decorated table. Responding to God’s nudge to take a walk with Him, journal and spend time in prayer must at least hold equal value to the times when I’ve spent hours in expository study of a biblical doctrine.


Shepherds, what is the simple thing that you could do today that would make a difference, either in your walk with God, or relationship with another?

A Broken Heart

This past week, I hurt someone I care about.

In a vulnerable moment, my preadolescent son shared with me the name of the new beauty in middle school with “almond eyes, silky hair and perfect skin” whom he had begun admiring from afar.

In an absent-minded moment, my son’s entrusted secret escaped my lips before I could reign it in. I shared his very private news with my neighbor.

Though my son said nothing and did a masterful job at playing it cool, I knew at once that I had crushed him. I would rather die than hurt him, but hurt him I had. And worst, I might have jeopardized the wonderful trust that exists between him and me.

As soon as we had a moment alone, I began to ask his forgiveness. Though hurt, he was quick to forgive. I wasn’t willing to let myself off the hook so easily, and spent the rest of the evening ostracizing myself for letting him down. I apologized more times than I could count, until finally, Josh said, “Mom, it’s over. I’ve forgiven you! Forget about it!”

Why is it that we hold onto our failings and sin so much longer than we need to? Just like Josh, our Father stands ready to forgive and embrace us. Unfortunately, we’d often rather cower in the corner, unwilling to fully receive His grace.

A.W. Tozer had something to say about this…

Brother Lawrence expressed the highest moral wisdom when he testified that if he stumbled and fell he turned at once to God and said, "O Lord, this is what You may expect of me if You leave me to myself."

He then accepted forgiveness, thanked God and gave himself no further concern about the matter. The Warfare of the Spirit, pp. 102-104

I can’t get over the grace of a young boy toward his loose-tongued mom. If only I could fully grasp that same type of grace extended to me by my Father, gratefully receive His forgiveness and move on!

Shepherds, will you share with each other how you work toward restoration with God when you have walked away from Him?

Our mouse

We have a mouse in our house.

At least we did; there hasn’t been any sign of him for a few days.

Our cat was the one who brought this happy news to our attention. Poised like a furry statue over my husband’s briefcase at 6:00 one morning, Ollie was not to be disturbed from her steely, frozen gaze. She was stalking something, and no amount of petting or cajoling would pull her from her post.

I wasn’t alarmed. Ollie is regularly mesmerized by things… a tiny bug, and more often than not, her own shadow. So I continued frying bacon and unloading the dishwasher, until all chaos commenced. Ollie pounced, and the mouse broke free of his hiding place, finding refuge behind a backpack in the corner of the kitchen.

I have no illusions of being anything but a “girly-girl”, but my response surprised even me. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I attempted to hoist myself up on the island in the kitchen. Unfortunately, the last pull-up, bench-pressing or hoisting this body has seen has been at least 20 years and 30 pounds ago. I immediately felt a sharp pain cutting through my sternum. Can you break a sternum? I know you can at least strain one, because mine is still sore.

Amid the chaos, the mouse escaped, and we’ve not seen him since.

The irony is that only weeks ago my 101 year old grandmother had a mouse in her home. After the mouse had found the poison left for him by the exterminator, he very respectfully died, positioning himself on the floor of my grandmother’s bedroom. She awoke to find him in the middle of the night and without a thought, swept him into a shoebox and slipped him out into the hall of her apartment.

The difference between my grandmother and me, is that while I fretted and talked about the mouse, she simply took care of it, she did what needed doing.

I’m afraid my walk with God resembles my behavior with the mouse. Over the years I have come to know some of God’s Word and His ways. I sometimes know what needs to be done to grow closer to Him, to be more like Him, and to love others better. But too often, rather than doing what I know I should do, I only think, fret, and talk about what I should do.

Theological facts are like the altar of Elijah on Carmel before the fire came, correct, properly laid out, but altogether cold. When the heart makes the ultimate surrender, the fire falls and true facts are transmuted into spiritual truth that transforms, enlightens, sanctifies. A W Tozer, That Incredible Christian, 92-94

.

May I find the courage of my grandmother, to figure out what needs doing, and then do it!

Shepherds, how do you find the strength to move from knowing what to do, to doing it?

Those Noisy Birds

I was looking for quiet on Sunday afternoon.

Wanting to escape the noise of the dishwasher, laundry machine and one of the many football games being broadcast in our living room, I decided to step outside for a moment of silence.

Best laid plans. I don’t know if you’re much of a bird watcher, but you don’t have to be an expert to notice that the birds are certainly on the move these days. It’s migration time. According to one article, thousands of birds will choose a stopover point no bigger than a few hundred square feet to rest during their long journey.

Sunday’s rest stop was in my backyard. The woods just 20 feet behind my house were filled with chatty, busy birds. As if the noisy chorus wasn’t deafening enough, add to it the percussion of walnuts thudding to ground under the weight of the countless birds. My backyard made Lucas Oil Stadium seem like a monastery retreat.

Amid the frenetic chaos, I was struck with a thought. These birds were in complete unity. They seemed to have decided together when, where, and how long to stop during their thousand mile journey. I didn’t notice any of them trying to thwart the plan; they miraculously all seemed to know their purpose and how to go about accomplishing it.

The birds seem to have figured out something so easily forgotten. Unity is important to God.

Ephesians 4:3 says the following:

Always keep yourselves united in the Holy Spirit, and bind yourselves together with peace.

A W Tozer reminds us that this unity is best accomplished as we individually are tuned to God.
"If a hundred pianos were merely tuned to each other, their pitch would not be very accurate. But if they were all tuned to one tuning fork, they would automatically be tuned to each other".

Those birds all seemed to have been in tune with their Creator last Sunday. They worked together, and all went about accomplishing their mighty feat of migrating thousands of miles.

As Shepherds, will you share a time when you experienced the strength and joy of unity when you and others were all in tune with God?

Quiet Please

I haven’t golfed for over 20 years, but this past weekend, if you’ll pardon the pun, I gave it a shot.

Golfing just felt right this Sunday. The weather was perfect and the crowd non-existent. (This may have something to do with the fact that the Colts kicked off right about the time I teed off.)

Walking onto the first fairway, I soon remembered why I love the game. With the green carpet stretching out before me and the blue canopy of sky overhead, I was struck with the peace and quiet. All was still, save the occasional sound of a ball being well hit, or plopping politely if it found the water.

Ironically, not far into the game, I managed to sabotage the afternoon. Thinking I actually knew what I was talking about, I began offering every possible instruction to my family with regard to golf etiquette, the appropriate club choice for each shot, the certainty that the obviously flawed direction of my husband’s feet or placement of my son’s grip would be the ruin of their shot, blah, blah, blah…

Our peaceful, afternoon was shattered by the lecturing of yours truly.

Why is it that I tend to be my own worst enemy when it comes to enjoying quiet? Setting out on a morning walk with every intention of spending time with God, I usually fill most of the quiet with my own voice in prayer requests. Rather than being still before God, I talk, talk, talk, and miss everything I might have learned from Him if I’d only kept quiet.

Ruth Haley Barton, the author of Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership, cautions,
“The discipline of solitude is a key discipline for all those who seek afer God. It is the primary place where the leader’s soul is strengthened.

And A. W. Tozer gets practical…

It is important that we get still to wait on God. And it is best that we get alone, preferably with our Bible outspread before us. Then if we will, we may draw near to God and begin to hear Him speak to us in our hearts. I think for the average person the progression will be something like this: First a sound as of a Presence walking in the garden. Then a voice, more intelligible, but still far from clear. Then the happy moment when the Spirit begins to illuminate the Scriptures, and that which had been only a sound, or at best a voice, now becomes an intelligible word, warm and intimate and clear as the word of a dear friend. Then will come life and light, and best of all, ability to see and rest in and embrace Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord and All.

A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God, the Speaking Voice

Shepherds, will you share with each other the ways you make room for solitude with God in the posts below?

Change

Some deal better than others with change.

I had a college roommate who used to say, “I eat change for breakfast.” I’m not really sure what that means, but if we are keeping with her food metaphor, I see change more as a lima bean, something to be avoided, or at least hidden under a napkin.

Lately I am finding myself overwhelmed by all the change in my life. Because my appetite for change is practically nonexistent, I feel a little paralyzed. Rather than dive in and navigate new adventure headed my way, I’m more prone to shut down and spend my time remembering what life was like, “before.”

Change is a fickle fellow. Sometimes it is wonderful, as it has been with those of you who have had new babies this summer, gotten engaged, moved to a new home or found a new job. Other times it is incredibly difficult; as some of you have experienced these past weeks when you sent a child to a new school, maybe even moved them off to college, or even said goodbye to a precious loved one as God slipped them into eternity.

Looking up this morning as I drove to work gave me a sweet reminder. The perfect day revealed one of the bluest skies I’ve seen. I realized that I was looking at the same blue sky that God stretched out as a curtain way back at creation. It hasn’t gone away. It still expands over the world for every eye to see. Everyday.

And if the work of God’s hands doesn’t change, neither does the Creator Himself.

The following psalm has been a soothing balm to my anxious heart lately as I have been facing change…

Yet I still belong to you; you are holding my right hand.

You will keep on guiding me with your counsel, leading me to a glorious destiny.

Whom have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth.

My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever. (Psalm 73:23 – 26 New Living Translation)

Will you share with other Women of Grace Shepherds your best practices for facing the continual change that life brings?

Downhill at 50

Turning 50 a few weeks ago seems to have cost me a few brain cells.

Honestly, I’m quite used to the fact that I am forgetting things…putting the milk in the pantry and cereal in the fridge, dialing up the number of a close friend only to find myself surprised to hear her voice as I’d somehow forgotten who I’d called…

But this past weekend I took this middle-age thing a tad too far. My memory wasn’t the problem, it was my judgment.

Wrapping up a late night of July 3rd, neighborhood, cul-de-sac fireworks, my family headed for home. With a bicycle, Power Wing, lawn chair and fireworks to manage, I magnanimously offered to help by riding the Power Wing home…in the dark…down a decent sized hill, (later to be named “Suicide Valley” by my son).

Power-wing: “cousin to the skateboard, equipped with handle bar and 2 wings designed to increase speed…”

The slow decline was soothing, allowing a gentle breeze to brush my face as I sailed leisurely down the tarmac.

But with little warning, things changed. My speed quickly accelerated, and this gentle slope soon became a death drop, down which I began to hurtle out of control.

I really don’t remember the next painful moments, but Josh assured me it was horrible to witness. “Mom! You did a faceplant double-roll right down the street!”

True that. Whatever I did, that pavement couldn’t have been harder, or my velocity more intense. The right side of my body took the worst of it, including my arm, elbow, wrist, ankle and hip. I haven’t had any X-rays yet, but since the swelling and pain is still refusing to go away, I’m becoming more open to the idea.

My trip down Suicide Valley was the perfect metaphor of how effortlessly I seem to slip into sin. I start slowly enough, so casually that I have little or no idea that I am on a dangerous path. But before I know it, I have accelerated into a downward spiral, finding myself at a point of no return, at least not without a good amount of damage awaiting me.

Listen to what A.W. Tozer says about sin...

Sin, in addition to anything else it may be, is always an act of wrong judgment.
To commit a sin a man must for the moment believe that things are different from
what they really are; he must ignore the signs on the highway and drive with his
eyes shut …
No act is wise that ignores remote consequences, and sin always
does. Sin sees only today, or at most tomorrow; never the day after tomorrow,
next month or next year. A.W. Tozer, The Dwelling Place of God

I won’t be riding any Power Wings in the near future. I’m also hoping I to stay clear of those other dangerous paths which promise excitement, but will eventually end in pain.

Shepherds, what is your best practice to avoid a slippery slope toward sin?