the waiting room...

I saw something in the doctor’s office yesterday that hurt my heart.

It was late in the afternoon, the physician’s schedules had backed up, and the waiting room was full of tired, slightly impatient patients.

I noticed a man enter the door in a motorized wheelchair, somewhat frenzied, as if he might be running late. He hurried up to the front desk, pulled out an assortment of papers, phones, pens, etc., and worked hard to give the receptionist what she had asked for.

In his haste, he dropped something that landed beneath his wheelchair. Though I was seated a distance away, I could see him struggling to reach it. Exerting more effort than would be required of those without a disability, I could sense his fretfulness and exhaustion.

The part of the scene that struck me most than was the apathy of those who observed him. Not one person seated anywhere near him moved to offer help. They simply stayed in their chairs, continued to flip through their magazines, or awkwardly looked away.

I think I found this so unsettling because I am just not used to seeing people respond like those folks in the waiting room. I’m used to you. Busy women, with more than enough on your plates, yet you don’t hesitate to offer meals, hugs, childcare, prayer, phone calls, cards, smiles, and so much more, to anyone God puts in your path.

Knowing and watching you is such a privilege, because you love the way Christ designed His church to love.

As I reached down to hand the man the phone he had dropped, I noticed his face. I wish he hadn’t looked so surprised. I wish the rest of the world understood what you understand...

"The world would be a changed place if every Christian attended to the sorrows
that are plain before him." (Maclaren)

Shepherds, would you share with each other ways you have watched your groups come alongside one another this year?

In somewhat of a last minute decision, my husband, 11 year old son and I took a road trip to Colorado last week to ski for a few days.

The sky was glorious, the weather perfect, and skiing more than wonderful. All in all, it was a real treat, and a memory we will always enjoy.

The downside, if there was one, would have to have been the drive. To save on gas, we took the small car, and loaded it with three not-so-small people, skis, ski boots, luggage, computers, and a television.

Ever the optimist, my husband assured me the trip was only 16 hours, and as he put it, “a piece of cake!”

I don’t know what Steve has against cake, but a 20 hour drive, (yep, we did it straight through), complete with a 5th grade boy with occasional intestinal issues, rotting egg McMuffins tucked between the seats, and nothing but miles and miles and miles of Kansas prairies to entertain us felt more like liver and onions to me.

Funny though, once we arrived home, the monotony of the road trip all but faded away. Getting to see my college kid, celebrating a beautiful Easter and reconnecting with the neighbors made the long drive nothing but a quickly fading memory.

That long trek on I70 reminds me a bit of our lives here on earth. On Easter , Dave Rod did a great job reminding us of an incredible HOPE that awaits us, but sometimes the day to day journey feels long, uncertain, and tedious.

Sarah Groves said it well in her song, “Hope”.

You do your work the best that you can you put one foot in front of the other
life comes in waves and makes its demands you hold on as well as you're
able…

As Shepherds, the road may be feeling a bit long for you right now. We are close to the finish line, but we have been at it awhile. It is nice to be reminded that we are all heading in the same direction, and for the same purpose.

As Paul told the Corinthians…

So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and steady, always enthusiastic
about the Lord's work, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever
useless. 1 Corinthians 15:58

More than anything, my hope is that you know your efforts this year have been useful, fruitful, and eternal.

Take a minute to share below with the other Shepherds ways this year's
journey may have felt hopeful and fruitful to you...

In the Garden, by Max Lucado

Go with me for a moment to witness what was perhaps the foggiest night in history. The scene is very simple; you’ll recognize it quickly. A grove of twisted olive trees. Ground cluttered with large rocks. A low stone fence. A dark, dark night.

Now, look into the picture. Look closely through the shadowy foliage. See that person? See that solitary figure? What’s he doing? Flat on the ground. Face stained with dirt and tears. Fists pounding the hard earth. Eyes wide with a stupor of fear. Hair matted with salty sweat. Is that blood on his forehead?

That’s Jesus. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Maybe you’ve seen the classic portrait of Christ in the garden. Kneeling beside a big rock. Snow-white robe. Hands peacefully folded in prayer. A look of serenity on his face. Halo over his head. A spotlight from heaven illuminating his golden-brown hair.

Now, I’m no artist, but I can tell you one thing. The man who painted that picture didn’t use the gospel of Mark as a pattern. When Mark wrote about that painful night, he used phrases like these: “Horror and dismay came over him.” “My heart is ready to break with grief.” “He went a little forward and threw himself on the ground.”

Does this look like the picture of a saintly Jesus resting in the palm of God? Hardly. Mark used black paint to describe this scene. We see an agonizing, straining, and struggling Jesus. We see a “man of sorrows.” (Isaiah 53:3 NASB) We see a man struggling with fear, wrestling with commitments, and yearning for relief.

We see Jesus in the fog of a broken heart.

The writer of Hebrews would later pen, “During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the one who could save him from death.” (Hebrews 5:7 NIV)

My, what a portrait! Jesus is in pain. Jesus is on the stage of fear. Jesus is cloaked, not in sainthood, but in humanity.

The next time the fog finds you, you might do well to remember Jesus in the garden. The next time you think that no one understands, reread the fourteenth chapter of Mark. The next time your self-pity convinces you that no one cares, pay a visit to Gethsemane. And the next time you wonder if God really perceives the pain that prevails on this dusty planet, listen to him pleading among the twisted trees.The next time you are called to suffer, pay attention. It may be the closest you’ll ever get to God. Watch closely. It could very well be that the hand that extends itself to lead you out of the fog is a pierced one.

How does being reminded that the One who suffered so much is the very One who longs to comfort you when you suffer bring you hope?

One Aloof Cat

My cat, Ollie, is a bit aloof.

Matter a fact, I’ve decided she either just plain doesn’t like me, or is a certified snob.

Her affections never come at my bidding, but on her terms alone. She will stoop to an occasional rubbing around my ankles, but only when she needs her food bowl filled or her litter box cleaned.

Having become accustomed to her detached demeanor, I am continually surprised to find her snuggled up at my feet many nights as I sleep. And now that I think about it, she is almost always in the same room I am, albeit at a safe distance. She even runs to the door when I arrive home, but as I enthusiastically greet her, (thinking today may actually be the day she decides to be affectionate), she skitters off as quickly as she came.

My cat's continual desire to be with me is sweet, if not somewhat odd.

One thing I know for sure, is that Ollie’s desire to be with me is nothing compared to the immanence of God.

When I take God at His word that He is always with me, closer than my own thoughts, I begin to embrace a truth and comfort beyond words.

God is everywhere here, close to everything, next to everyone.

God is indeed there. He is there as He is here and everywhere, not confined to tree
or stone, but free in the universe, near to everything, next to everyone, and
through Jesus Christ immediately accessible to every loving heart. The doctrine
of the divine omnipresence decides this forever.
A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God

What does it mean to you as you consider how very close God is?

As the weather is turning, the action is picking up in our backyard.

After months of too much television, the neighborhood kids are finally out and about, throwing footballs, shooting hoops and playing Capture the Flag.

They are happy, and so are their moms.

Except that is, when preadolescent skirmishes, silly arguments, and occasional bullying takes place.

I remember one such incident all too well from last year. A very large, strong, 15 year-old boy decided to put all the younger boys into a “Full Nelson.” (If you aren’t familiar with the term, it basically consists of one person pinning another’s shoulders back with all his strength, while lifting him off the ground for an excruciating affect.)

I didn’t see it happen, but the cry of pain coming from my 4th grader revealed everything.

Being the conflict avoidance gal that I am, the last thing I wanted to do was to confront the son of a neighbor I love dearly. But just as a lioness protects her cubs at all cost, there was nothing that could have stopped me from immediately handling the situation, and the bully.

Ironic, isn’t it? We follow the Prince of Peace, but it is often hard to manage peace in our own homes, workplaces, and backyards. People are people, and as a result, we really have our work cut out for us in trying to get along.

Jesus must have understood this well.
Listen to Max Lucado…

On the last night of his life Jesus prayed a prayer that stands as a citadel for
all Christians:

“I pray for these followers, but I am also praying for
all those who will believe in me
because of their teaching. Father, I pray
that they can be one. As you are in me and I am in
you, I pray that they can
also be one in us. Then the world will believe that you sent me.”
(John
17:20)

How precious are these words. Jesus, knowing the end is near,
prays one final time for his
followers. Striking, isn’t it, that he prayed
not for their success, their safety, or their happiness.
He prayed for their
unity. He prayed that they would love each other.

Maybe there are no magic answers. Getting along with others doesn’t always come easy. But regardless, I guess we need to begin by loving them.

P.S. The bully I lovingly had to confront has become a special buddy, both to me and my son. (And the younger neighborhood kids are breathing a bit easier these days.)

Would you share any thoughts or ideas that have helped you when "getting along" may have been a problem in your group?

What was your Outreach opportunity like last week? How did your ladies respond?