Welcome to Mountain Breeze Devotions

Mountain Breeze Devotions began in May of 2003. This ministry is an email ministry sending devotionals and meditations seven days a week by request.
It is the sister site of www.ChristianDevotions.US

This is the ministry of authors Cindy Sproles and Eddie Jones. Two friends brought together to serve the Father -- to spread the word to those who may not know and to promote the art and writers of Christian writing.

Welcome to Mountain Breeze Devotions --Cindy Sproles, author

Monday, December 31, 2007

He Makes Things New.....



But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness. – 2 Peter 3:13


I woke up this morning, walked outside and I could smell the fog. It was amazing. The air hung heavy with a dampness that settled gently on my skin, making me chill slightly. There was a fine mist of water held in the cloud that surrounded me, waiting like a flood of held-back tears, to fall.
I took in a breath and there it was, a soft fragrance, clean, simple –unique . Surely what I was smelling wasn’t the fog but the freshness of the morning that lay beneath the blanket. I took in a second breath and there it was again. My jaws tingled, and my mouth watered as I tasted the scent. The fragrance was real. Lifting my nose into the air like a dog sifting the odors on the wind, I filled my lungs with the fog that encompassed the world. Closing my eyes I held my breath, refusing to exhale so my senses could grasp hold of the moment.

I was reminded o f the smell of the salty air just before you arrive at the beach, or the flavor of the air just before a spring rain or a winter snow. I wondered what God had in store for me as He lifted the haze onto a world that tends to shove Him to the side. I am forever amazed at the newness of each day provided by our loving Father. Even when He knows people shun Him, He still finds the mercy to tend to the details of loving us – loving this world.

Every morning He tints the air with something new. Perhaps an inspiring sunrise or colorful streaks across the horizon. Maybe it’s a new scent to the cleanness of the air we breath. One way or the other, He is a God of many chances, many do-overs, many “start-agains.”

As we prepare to enter into another “new” year, we can rest assured that God is tending over His world. There are times He probably shakes His head in frustration. Still that doesn’t stop Him from placing the refining details to the morning. Each day is new, each moment is different and I have to ask myself, how often do we take this newness for granted?

Today I walked up a knoll as the fog lifted and before my eyes was the bluest sky. The sun kissed the earth and all that remained of the fog were a few wispy clouds that had retreated into the heavens. This morning, I climbed the hill toward heaven and I could have sworn that I could touch the edge of eternity. One more deep breath and my lungs shouted with the pleasure of clean, crisp winter air. All of this, anew – renewed, for an ungrateful world.

At the stroke of midnight we will extend a hand to an aging year and allow the youth of a new year to rise to the surface. The mercy of the Lord has begun to rain upon us again. Blessed and offered forgiveness, we’re afforded a new opportunity to abide in Him and He in us. Once again, He keeps his promise of a new heaven and earth. Once again He is faithful.

Friday, December 28, 2007

I Wanna Be A Shepherd -- She Said

(visit Christian Devotions for the remainder of this post in the He Said -- She Said Series by Eddie Jones and Cindy Sproles)

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior is born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and laying in a manager.” – Luke 2:10-12

Christmas came and went when I was a child. Each year, the parts for the Christmas program were cast and I always ended up an angel. Not such a bad part, a heavenly being, but not the part I wanted. I wanted to be a shepherd. They were the coolest. Giant hooked staffs and sheep. Since I had a great love for animals, shepherding seemed to be my forte’, though the program directors always thought my long blonde locks were better suited for the angel positions.

I love the story of the shepherds. Just imagine, sitting in the fields. Darkness broken with the flicker of the stars – uncountable stars. The silence was interrupted by the sound of chirping crickets and the flitting of night creatures. Life was peaceful and serene. When out of the blue an angel would appear (that would be me in the Christmas play). How awesome to have an angel of God light up the field where you set tending your sheep. Now that would be an eye opener. More so, being chosen to be privy to such wonderful news. How neat is that?

Jesus spent a great amount of time teaching all sorts of people about His Father. From the Jews to the Gentiles, the wealthy to the poor, and everyone in between. He only saw the need to teach, never the need to teach one more than another. So it doesn’t surprise me that God would send down an angel to the poorest of the poor – the shepherds. They, in the eyes of God, were equally as important as the Magi. Imagine that. Even at the announcement of the Christ child, God included the shepherds. These humble, meek and kind souls would serve as the example of the heart of Jesus. He was referred to as the Good Shepherd, the watcher of the flocks and ultimately, the sacrificial lamb. What a more logical choice of people with whom to share this great news. Jesus the Christ child – the Lamb of God.

I can remember grumbling over my silver tinsel halo one year, when my mother pulled out a picture from our family album. “Let me show you something.” She handed me a picture of a woman dressed as Mary, and a baby (cutest little rascal) grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s us.” She said.

“Us? As in me and you?”

“Yep. You were five months old. Probably very close to the age of Jesus when everyone finally arrived to see him. They had to walk you know. Didn’t have cars back then. It took a long time to get from one place to the next.”

“That’s me as baby Jesus?”

“Sure is.”

“Well, now that’s a set of shoes to fill, isn’t it? And I’m sure I liked being Jesus. But I really wanted to be a shepherd.” Mom shook her head and filed the picture away as a fruitless attempt to show me there were bigger parts to be had.

I definitely had been given an honor to play the part of Jesus, but what an equal honor to be chosen as the example Christ would follow in life. The gentle shepherd. The leader. The caretaker. The giver. The protector. Who better to view this child than the shepherds? The very symbol of the availability of Christ to all people.

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.” The shepherds wasted no time getting to the city and in humility they set the example by faithfully bowing and worshiping Him.

Years later, I still love the shepherds. I still long to one, but then God nudges me and reminds me that we are all shepherds – all responsible for tending those who do not know Him. Shepherding is hard work, and it bears little rest but great responsibility. The day Christ was born, an angel shared the news with them. How nifty is that? I think I’m happy these days. Once I figured out I finally got to be a shepherd.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Listening for the Words



Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away. - Matthew 24:35



There are times when words just don't come easy. Regardless of how we fumble and search the right way to say something just doesn't come. Funerals are a prime example. Well meaning individuals remark that "things will be better," or "they look so much better," when the best said words would be the ones which were unspoken. As a writer, sometimes we lose our muse - no matter how we struggle to find the right words nothing sounds right. Most men would joke that few women have difficulty with losing sight of having anything to say. Women respond by saying, "where there's a will there's a way."


I spoke to a classroom full of PhD's some years ago on living with a disabled child - something our family understood first hand. I had practiced my speech over and over gaining the necessary confidence to stand before this group of individuals. I stepped to the podium and looked at the rows of men and women that stretched upward when the words left me. Nothing came to mind. I stood there mortified. My hands shook and the stack of note cards I held went sailing like a deck of shuffled playing cards. The room remained silent, not even a snicker as I bent down to gather my notes. Standing, I faced the crowd and said, "There are two things in this world I can guarantee. 1) I'm a mom! I'm afraid of nothing and 2)as a mom, I will always have something to say!" Within seconds the crowd was laughing and suddenly the words came to me. When our words leave us, there's always a reason.


Perhaps we're tired or trying too hard. Maybe we need to be quiet and listen, focus or pay attention. Maybe God is trying to talk to us and we refuse to listen. It could be a matter of submission. The fact remains - we all lose our words from time to time, but there is one promise never changes. God's Word will never leave us. " Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away."


I was talking with the Father the other day, when my thoughts simply left me - mid-sentence to boot. "Well, Father, I completely lost track of what I was saying."


"So, I gathered." He remarked. My mind went blank. There was not a clue left as to what I was talking about. "Are you lost?" He asked me.


"I'd say that's a good way to put it. You're God, don't you know what I was going to say? Remind me perhaps."


"You're right. I know. And no, I have no intentions of reminding you."


"Why?"


"Because you need to listen."


"I thought I had been listening to our conversation."


"No, you were talking. I want you to listen."


"You aren't saying anything. I drive for miles and you say nothing."


"Because you aren't listening." This conversation was becoming confusing and frustrating.


"I don't get how I'm not listening."


"See. You're still talking. Shhhhh! Just listen." Running my fingers across my lips as if I were zipping a bag shut, I hushed. Not a peep. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel of my car and waited. Nothing. And as I opened my mouth to speak, God said, "Shhhhhhh!"


In the background I heard a song play on the radio and the sentence that leaped at me was this, "It's not who you know, and it's not what you did. It's how you live."Suddenly the words came to me. The conversation returned. I had listened to what God was saying to me. It all made sense. I understood what God wanted me to hear because I hushed long enough to listen.


Sometimes we think we're quiet when we really aren't. When the words leave you, go to the Word that never passes away. Study, read - be quiet and listen to what God has to say. The words will come for the situation you face, whether it be teaching a class, speaking to a group, writing, or talking to a friend or a family member. The words will come when we listen.

Monday, December 24, 2007

Little Lamb of God....


When he saw Jesus passing by, he said, "Look, the Lamb of God!" - John 1:36


I sat down in the grass one night, the air crisp and cold. Nothing moved, nothing rustled - there was only the sound of the wind. The sheep all lay sleeping, huddled in their groups, and I knew, with a moon like this, danger would be on the prowl.

It's hard to stay awake. Hard to not nod off when there is such quiet, such peace. So, I shoved my staff into the ground and clasp my hands tightly around it, pulling myself to my feet - starting my pace around the outer parameter of the flock, gingerly through the breaks in the herd. All is well. To my left a new born lamb, still wet with it's mother's water, feeding softly. She nuzzles the lamb, snuggles it in close.

Kneeling at the side of this mother and her lamb, I remember a time when I was young, kneeling at the side of another lamb. This one more unique than any I could ever imagine. This lamb was born to be a sacrifice. Humbly He was born into the arms of a loving mother and an earthly father, still His heavenly Father stood watch. This lamb would be led to the slaughter and not a soul would offer him reprieve.

I saw him the night the angels led us into the city. Beautiful, peaceful and small, yet all I could do was worship him. He was an amazing sight. Just a baby, like any other baby - ten fingers and ten toes, pudgy legs and dimples. He had eyes that spoke to those who gazed into them. Yet, there was something different about Him. Something special.

I sunk my fingers into the wool of this ewe and scratched her head, praising her for the work she'd done to bring this lamb into the world. But I remember the look on the face of Mary - tender, pleased, joyful. Still a distinct sadness hung over her. She knew what none the rest of us could foresee. She knew what lay ahead for this child, this lamb, this sacrifice. What a bittersweet time for her. Elated that she has a son, broken hearted that he would die. Pleased that he is her child, torn that he is not hers to keep.

We sang to him this song:

Little lamb, tender and sweet,

You who lay at the Master's feet.

Born to bring us hope and love,

Given freely by the Father above.

Little lamb, given in peace and awe.

Favored by all who gazed upon you and saw

The gift which came to save,

The sacrifice who would overcome the grave.

Little lamb, tender and sweet,

You who lay at the Master's feet.

Born to us without hesitation this day,

Given to us to guide the way.

Cindy Sproles

Friday, December 21, 2007

Abundance and Faith...

“Where is your faith?” he asked his disciples. In fear and amazement they asked on another, ‘Who is this?’ He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him.”– Luke 8: 25

As much as we’d like to think we are a faithful people, we have great difficulty holding on to the belief that God will provide. Sometimes life is frightening and when we’re left to truly believe, the ballgame changes. It’s not an intentional thing, we’re just sometimes overcome by the incidents of life that overwhelm us. There are times even small things look like monsters and we wonder if there’s anyway we can possibly rid ourselves of the anxiety that accompanies them.

Perhaps God has blessed us with abundance. Everything has a price including abundance. However, it’s what we do with what we’re given that strengthens our faith. The Father promises us He’ll never allow us to be tempted more that we can withstand without offering us a way clear of the issue and He is faithful in His promise. When He blesses us with abundance, He doesn’t turn around and heap trouble on top of the mix, but there are times the joys we’re given, as wonderful as they are, bring along baggage. Our children are prime examples. What a joy, a blessing and an abundance to be blessed with a child. To hold those little babies in our arms, gaze into their eyes and know that this is what real love consists of, doesn’t mean things will always sail smoothly.

Our babies grow into teens, with hormones and deep running emotion. Suddenly the abundance we felt while holding them as infants turns into a source of animosity, hurt and frustration. In those moments of frustration we look to the heavens and wonder “What happened to that gift that was so precious?” That’s when Christ reminds us, “Where is our faith?” Life is not smooth sailing but our faith in the Father must remain strong, even when life looks bleak.

This morning I leaned back in my computer chair and flipped on the little heater next to my feet. I looked at the ceiling and suddenly, I saw the Father gazing down on me.

“Where’s your faith?” He asked me.

“Huh, am I not being faithful?”

“You question the path you follow? Where’s your faith?”

“Wait, I’m not questioning the path, just the obstacles along the way? I thought it would be easier but this way, as good as it is, gets harder.”

“Yep, everything is tied to a consequence somewhere along the road.” He gently blew in my face and moved the hair that dangled over my brow. “You can thank sin for that – the consequence that is. I wish I could tell you that abundance is free and clear, but it isn’t. When I bless you, there is always decisions to be made, things to be handled, people who are jealous and want what you have. So, it’s what you do with the things I give you. It’s the decisions you make that drive the joy of the gift.”

“So what do I do when the road gets hard?”

“Hold tight to the gift and the excitement of what lies within it, then use your faith. Set the gift before you in plain view, enjoy it, revile in it – but remain faithful in the tasks that brought the gift so freely to you. Others will prosper through your faithfulness. Never forget the prayers of hope you prayed, never forget where you were before you received your gift. Then make the efforts to grasp hold of Me and believe that I will get you through whatever obstacles crop up. Cling to me. I will always provide.”

“Oh, I understand. Take the gift, enjoy it but continue to work, don’t lean back on my duff and expect a free ride.”

“Well….” The father laughed, “That’s one way of putting it. “Sometimes the gift looks to big to absorb, but its not. I always provide a way. Don’t just sit there --persevere. Knuckle down and forge ahead. The gift is the gravy, your faith is the key.”

I’ve learned a lot recently from thses morning chats with the Father. He’s a pretty wise soul – has method to the madness. So I take my gifts of abundance and cherish them, but I dig in and forge ahead in faith. He, who even the storm obeys, has the answer. I just need the faith.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

"You Shoulda Called Ahead".....She Said


(Part of the He Said - She Said Series)
Visit www.christiandevotions.us to view the He Said version


So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her first born, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in the manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. – Luke 2:4-7


“That’s the fifth inn we’ve stopped at.” Mary rubbed her back and tried to reposition herself on the donkey. Joseph took the reins and tugged.

“I know. There’s another around the corner.”

“Did you not call ahead?”

“It’s not like I had a cell phone handy.”

“A what?”

“A cell phone. You know a mobile phone?” She shrugged somewhat puzzled.

“I thought you’d send ahead for a room, especially with me pregnant. That was poor planning, Joseph.”

“You wanna talk poor planning? A child before marriage isn’t exactly in the top ten for Martha Stewart’s New Planning Guide.”

“What? Who’s Martha Stewart?” She furrowed her brow, confused.

“Skip it. We’ll try the next inn.”

“All I’m saying is, you knew I was pregnant and I would have thought you’d sent someone ahead. Not that I don’t appreciate Willard the donkey, but a cart would have been nice – easier on the back.” Joseph glanced over his shoulder then rolled his eyes.

“Anything else wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just thought you’d call ahead.”

“Like I said, Mary…it’s not like I had a cell phone.”

“What’s a cell phone?” She nodded, curious to understand.

“Just wait here until I check with the innkeeper.” Mary waited patiently then climbing down from the beast she stretched. A pain shot through her like a bolt of lightening.

“Joe!” He motioned to her to wait. “Joseph! Now! It’s now! Showtime.”

“What? Showtime for what?”

“The baby. It’s time. Did you get a room?” She doubled in agony.

“They’re out but they have a garage in the back.”

“Garage? What’s a garage?”

“Nothing. It’s a stable. It’s gonna have to do.”

“I didn’t bring the diaper bag. I wish you’d have called ahead.”

“Now who’s planning poorly?” He helped her into the stable and soon the child was born. Joseph took the baby in his arms and snuggled him close. He cleaned his face gently with a damp cloth then kissed his tiny fingers. “Well, son, it’s good to finally meet you. You’re mother is a wonderful woman – a little persnickety at times, but a good woman. That’s why God chose her.” He stared into the baby’s face understanding fully he was looking into the face of God. “Thing is, she knew in advance. She knew long before me. You did call ahead. Years ahead and You knew then, there’d be no rooms available.”

The truth of the matter is the birth of Christ was prepared well in advance. But from the very beginning there has never been room. It seems where ever He travelled there was a crowd. He had a following. People crowded around Him through His entire ministry. There were times He had to climb into a boat and row out into the water just to have elbow room, so the issue of no room in the inn was only the beginning.

The Father had prepared for this moment from the second He decided to create the world. He made His plans, prepared for the fact that Christ would never have space. He knew that while Jesus walked the earth it would be a tight squeeze, but the hardest place to make a spot for Him would be man’s heart.

We celebrate the birth of Christ every year with great celebration, gifts, and food but the real question remains, “Is there any room?” Do you have space for Him in your heart? My conversation between Mary and Joseph was meant to make you smile just a bit but the thought behind it goes deeper. When you sit down at night to ponder the day, have you made room for Christ? Whether it’s in prayer, devotion, acts of kindness, or actions – have you made room or is He still in the stall out back? Christmas is all about making room for the Savior – His coming. Is there space in your heart?

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Cranky - ME? Naw.....





So then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be alert and self-controlled. - 1 Thessalonians 5:6










There's not a person alive who hasn't felt anger and frustration. It comes in many forms, and when it hits us the ultimate result is cranky. The edges of our mouth turn down, we scowl, furrow our brow, snort, sigh and of course, there's the old, slam things around thing. One way or the other we manage to let others know we're in a less than pleasant mood.

I've been sick recently, and though I've tried my best to maintain a decent attitude, the fact is, I've felt horrible. Illness makes even the strongest soul a bit sour. So when my disabled son came bounding in the house from work, slamming the door behind him and knocking over things without a second thought, my first inclination was to snap at him. "Hey - slow down. Take it easy. You act like you have something to hide." Though I said it in a joking manner, deep down inside, I was a bit frustrated.

Up the steps he went saying, "Sorrrrryyyy!" I gave a snort and shook my head as a smile broke through the agitation. He wasn't the least bit sorry, but he made the effort to apologize for rushing through the house like a bull in a China shop. Within minutes he's standing next to me, goofy grin (you know, the one that proves you're the cat that ate the bird), and this is what he says. "Mom, I got something for you."

I was a bit stunned. "I got this for you at work, just because I'm proud of you."

Okay, so now I'm feeling really cruddy for being cranky with him. From behind his back, he brings this beautiful basket full of bath products. Tears filled my eyes as I sat staring at this wonderful act of kindness. From the depths of his heart came this tender, sweet, and thoughtful gift. Outside of the obvious guilt, my heart melted and I was shamed. He sat the gift in my lap, kissed me on the cheek, and trailed off into another room. I had to call him back to thank him. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. How fortunate am I? Within minutes, I found myself alone and holding this beautiful gift and feeling oh, so blessed. Suddenly I understood what finding favor with God meant.

So, I leaned back in the recliner and looked toward the couch. "You there, Father?"

"Oh yeah, I'm here. Wouldn't have missed this one for the world."

"That was the sweetest thing."

"Indeed. Acts of kindness are always sweet. They're from the spirit. Inspired on a whim for those who need a boost."

"You're saying this is a bandaid?"

"Kinda. Sometimes we lose control of our perspective and we need to be jolted back on track. Sometimes we draw within ourselves and forget the attitude others see. We become self-absorbed."

"Great! Now you're telling me I'm selfish."

"No. Don't put words in my mouth. I'm telling you, we all get a bit testy at times, but it's our job to be aware - to pay attention. Be alert and self-controlled so that others do not pay the price for our misdirection."

"How lucky am I?" I asked.

The Father pulled the curtain back from the window and replied. "So fortunate. Now what will you do with the fortune you've been given?"

"Share it?"

"That's a start. Others need to be loved as well."

"You're telling me to love the cranky?"

"The Father laughed. "I'm telling you, love the cranky and everyone in between because you are fortunate to have been loved."


Okay, so I look at feeling bad in a whole new light. I am responsible, even when I feel bad, for maintaining the face of Christ. My attitude sets the pace for the family's attitude. The next time I feel cranky, I'll remember this gentle reminder - this gift of kindness, one given for no other reason, than to make me smile.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Torn Pants


I will bless them and the places surrounding my hill. I will send down showers in season; there will be showers of blessing. – Ezekiel 34:26

Everybody has something they hate to turn loose of – just got to hold on tight. For some it may be an old car or an old chair. Many of our children are attached to a blanket, a pacifier, or a special toy. The fact is, all of us have white knuckles over something.

Me. Well…..it’s this completely worn out pair of lounging pants. First of all, I love the color – they’re purple plaid, and though plaid is not my favorite, I can live with it because they’re shades of purple. Secondly, they’re way too big. Slouchy is probably the best word for them. Ooh, they are so soft and comfy that it doesn’t matter if I spend my time hiking them up around my waist. I love them.

I pulled them out of the laundry and as I folded them, I noticed a tear – a big three-inch long tear at the knee. Needless to say I was mortified. However, being a “clinger,” I folded them neatly and put them away, pulling them out regularly to wear. Each day I wore them, I noticed the hole becoming a long tear. Recently, I slipped them on and the leg became two separate pieces. I know -- it’s sad. But I love my lounge pants. They fit with that special sort of comfort.

I plopped down in the recliner, kicked up my feet and heard this distinct riipppp. “Ah man. No way.” I whined. My husband laughed then rolled his eyes. He’s been waiting for me to throw them away for sometime. I found myself pulling the edges of the tear together in an attempt to pretend they would magically meld together. To my dismay, that didn’t happen.

Grabbing my floppers, I slipped my feet in and headed out the door to get the newspaper. The wind was howling outside and the one leg of my lounge pants flapped freely like a flag on the mast of a pirate ship. My leg quickly turned cold and I tried frantically to grab the flapping material. That’s when it occurred to me. Why in heavens name do I insist on hanging on to old things that are non-repairable?

How often do we grasp hold of things from our past and cling to it as though there is no tomorrow? There are new things to sink our teeth into.

I asked the Father, as I struggled to hold my lounge pants together, “Why do we do this God?”

He laughed out loud then shook His head. “You tell me. I offer you so much more. Hope, love, peace, forgiveness, yet you insist on hanging on the one thing that causes you the most pain.”

“The pants are comfortable.”

“Yeah, right! I can tell.” He motioned the wind to blow and yank the material from my fingers. “That’s comfortable, heh?”

“Oh, now You’re just showing off.”

“No, I’m making a point. Throw away the old things that are torn and tattered and let me fill you with new things. All that ‘junk’ that hides deep in your soul – trash it.”

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if I could give up my purple lounge pants. But the Father was right. How comfortable are you when you’re chasing wild material?

“Okay, so I give up the lounge pants. What then?”

God stopped the wind and my leg grew warmer. “Oh. I see.” I said.

He smiled and then did the most amazing thing. He filled me with blessings. My heart danced with excitement as I felt the multitude of abundance He heaped upon me. My friends, my family, good fortune, dreams come true and all for the price of a pair of torn lounge pants. (You realize it’s really NOT about the pants!)

The Father brushed past me as I stepped onto the porch. “I want you joyous and happy. I want to bless you from the inside out. But when you are filled with old and torn items, there’s no room. You have to throw the junk away – finish the tasks you’ve begun so I can bless them.”

I took off my lounge pants when I got in the house. Wadded them into a ball and tossed them in the trash. Sure, they were comfortable, soft – what I knew best. But I liked this feeling of blessing and abundance. It was time to throw out the old. Resolve, so to speak. The new lounge pants are a little stiff, but they’ll soften with time. And they do fit much better. No more hiking them at the waist. My legs are warm. There’s real benefits to having new ones.

The Father joined me in the living room this morning. He kicked His feet up on the recliner, leaned back. “Feels good to have new hope, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed it does.”

“Fit okay?”

“Yep.”

The Father smiled. “Imagine that. And it only cost you the old. Not a bad trade, I’d think.”

“No Sir. It wasn’t. Wish I’d have thrown them away years ago.”

The moral of this story is simple. God waits for us to give our troubles and woes to Him. He wants to replace the old with the new. And when He does, He rains blessings from heaven.

Friday, December 14, 2007

A Thimble of Grace....
















The law was added so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord – Romans 5:20

Try and explain grace. Think it through for a minute and then try to explain exactly what grace is. Sorry, but Webster is out – can’t use it. It’s a given what Webster says about grace. Pardon, reprieve, approval, favor, even privilege. However, what the assignment consists of is, you explaining grace in your own words.

My son and I were driving to the store one afternoon, when he asked, “Mom, tell me what grace means.” That would be easy or so I thought and I began listing all those words Webster offers. That’s when the realization of grace came to me. It’s more than single words. Grace is a concept – a big concept. In order to get our mind around it, we have to understand the concept.

Look at grace like this: you take a thimble, a tiny little sewing thimble. Pretend you’re standing on the beach gazing at the ocean. Now, jump in the water, swim out just a bit, dip your thimble in the water, and swim back. Once back on shore, look at the water in your thimble. It’s such a tiny amount of water. Imagine this. That small amount of water, when poured on your head, will cover you completely, soaking you to the bone. One more thing, look at that ocean. It’s huge. You could stand at the beach and dip your thimble into the ocean bazillions of times through your lifetime and never come close to using up the grace that God offers.

One might ask why do you have to swim into the ocean to fill your thimble? Can’t a person do that from the beach? Certainly, but the point of grace is diving into it. The full effects are felt when we immerse ourselves fully into the process. Isn’t that amazing? God’s marvelous grace is so abundant we can’t begin to make a dent in His ocean. Better yet, one thimbleful is concentrated – you know, a “little bit goes a long way” cliché.

There are many Christian concepts that sometimes throw us for a loop when we’re trying to grasp hold. We can be a great theologian and still not really “get” a concept – that’s why it’s important to ponder them. Study. When you least expect it. God will explain it.

So, today when I sat at my desk, I asked the Father, “What’s your definition of grace?”

He pulled his chair close to me and laid His hand on the desk, tapping His fingers in thought. “Grace is my way of canceling out the bad. A freedom of sorts, but one you must make the effort to receive.”

“Did you like my explanation of grace? You know, the thimble story.”

“I did. And now, here’s the question I pose to you. I freely give grace. What about you? It’s easy to receive grace, but it’s hard to give it. Who do you need to offer up a thimble of grace?”

I was stunned. “I thought grace was a God thing.”

“It is. But the idea is the same. If you can receive grace, you must also learn to offer it. It’s not my grace, because only I can give my grace, but you can offer your version of the idea and find a great peace in the forgiveness that lies beneath a simple word like grace.” He makes so much sense when we listen. Who do you need to offer grace?

Thursday, December 13, 2007

In His Story Is Hers --- She Said (He Said - She Said Series)

(Visit Christian Devotions for the He Said - She Said Series by Eddie Jones and Cindy Sproles)



The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you are highly favored! The Lord is with you." Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid. Mary, you have found favor with God. "You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.....But why am I so favored that the mother of my Lord should come to me? - Luke 1:28-33, 43

There are times when we are dealt a task that can only be performed by us. Regardless of what we do, who we talk to, the ultimate completion of the assignment falls solely in our hands. The burden is great - sometimes heavier than anyone can imagine. Sometimes so heavy that we fall to our knees and crawl until we find something we can grasp hold of and pull ourselves upright once again.

Can you imagine what it must have been like to be Mary, the mother of Jesus? Can you imagine the burden - the weight that was tied to her heart, pulling her to her knees? Simply as a mother, knowing the facts of His life before He was born and being aware everyday she rocked Him what His ultimate demise would be - was enough to bring a life of suffering for her. Still she faithfully stood by His side. All through the ministry of Jesus, we see one-liners of scripture that tell us Mary was there. She was not only His mother she was a follower and a believer. She followed him to different cities from time to time. She walked along the crowd, mourning as He lugged the cross to Calvary, and she sat at His feet as His life's blood trickled down the cross and puddled at her knees. She had to ask the question, "And God calls this favor?"

Though the honor of being chosen as the mother of Jesus was amazing, one given on the merits of her heart, Mary only asked one question of the angel who brought her the news. "How can this be?" She never once questioned the task she was given. As women, it's our nature to question. We like to know the details of things. Men are happy with a brief outline but women - women take the details of an issue and wrap around it, making sure that every aspect of it is covered. It's just how God made us. Mary fought that urge to question. She took the overwhelming news into her heart and pondered it. Later her own humility before the Father led her ask, "But why am I so favored that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" Humble, obedient, determined, and faithful - favored by God.

Mary had to wonder why she couldn't enjoy the life of Jesus, as she would enjoy the lives of her other children, but she realized each memory of Him would be her only tie to Him once His task on earth was complete. So, she was there. She was there being the faithful and loving mother - there being the faithful and loving servant. Even as He died on the cross while part of her died as well.

The true qualities of such a woman will only be known to our Father in heaven who knew her heart and found favor with her. Hers was a task only she could fulfill and hers was the burden she carried without hesitation. Some say a gift, while others say a curse, a life of suffering and torment as she watched her child grow into His ministry. She'd found favor with God and as undeserving as she felt, she stepped forward and performed the job with grace and determination.

I asked the Father, "What is favor?"

He knelt down and tinkered with a blade of grass. "Favor is my choice. Knowing the strength of the heart, the broadness of the shoulders, the willingness to continue on when things get hard."

"It doesn't mean you like one more than another?"

"No, not necessarily. It means I know them better than any other. And I know whether they will press forward or slow to stop beneath the details of the plan."

"So Mary was favored?"

"Indeed. A woman of great favor for reasons man will never grasp. Unique and obedient, faithful and humble."

"Oh." I said kneeling next to Him. "So do You love me like You loved Mary?"

"Without a doubt. I find favor in all My children. They are each different." That warmed my heart. God loves us all, finds favor in us all - each one unique in His eyes.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Bottoms Up -- Backsliding!



Although our sins testify against us, O Lord, do something for the sake of your name. For our blacksliding is great; we have sinned against you. - Jeremiah 14:7



On our recent trip to the mountains, I found myself backsliding - not in the sinful way, but in the "That was fun, let's do it again!" sort of way. Squealing as I flew backside-first down the side of the mountain, I found that God had provided an opportune time for me to not only laugh at myself but, learn from the experience.

You see, there was a lot more to that fall than most would recognize and now that I step back and accept the challenge to examine the incident, I see just where the Father was taking me.
I stood at the top of a slick hillside and without a second thought, took a step. Did I make an effort to grasp hold of my husband's extended hand? No! Did I grab hold of a tree for balance? No! I did what most of us do in any given situation. I stepped out on my own - no preparation, no thought or guidance, and wham. My feet became airborne and I landed flat on my backside, taking the ride of my life and going downhill fast.

Isn't that just like us - walking head first into a situation without looking? Worse yet, once we're at the bottom of the hill looking up, we have to begin the climb back. Step after step, we make the effort to move tediously over rocks and wet leaves. As long as our eyes are fixed on the short-term climb, we manage fine. But when we look to the top, the climb looks too steep and bottom appears better, so we backslide into our old ways. Our feet start to slip, and our arms flap in an attempt to steady us, but the ride to the bottom is much easier.
We find that our sins are much more fun than we care to admit. The ride down the hill was a blast, but it left us with a dirty backside. Now, not only do we have to find our way back, but once we get there, we've got to clean the mud off. Cliché as it is, we've fallen prey to backsliding.
Two steps forward and four back.

The Father knows the path we travel is filled with obstacles. He knows we'll step out on our own and slide bottom-first down the hill. Still, the wonderful thing is, He's always there to help us. It's that unconditional and hopeful love of the Creator that lifts us, that gets behind us and pushes us forward - all the way to the top. Once we manage to pull ourselves back, then we face the job of cleaning up the mess. That's the hard part. Often times we can't see the dirt on our backside, yet we know it's there. We're filthy and just because we can't see the mud doesn't mean we won't leave a smudge when we sit on the new couch. There's a vicious cycle of climbing, sliding, cleaning, climbing, sliding, and cleaning. Thank goodness when we backslide the Father offers us a forgiveness that is complete and amazing. He knows we are sinful, yet He stands hand extended, to pull us free from the muddy hillside. To top it off - He washes us clean.

I can't say that the Father finds His fun in snapping a picture of my muddy backside, but He certainly can use it to prove that the fast trip to the bottom may have been fun, but it left us pretty nasty. We all trip and fall - backslide from time to time, but when we reach for the hand of God, we will find forgiveness and we'll be cleansed. Brand new, no smudges. Clean.
Sometimes God lets us wallow at the bottom for a time, but when our eyes are finally opened He wraps His arms around us and lifts us effortlessly to the mountain top. And you thought the ride to the bottom was fun. Wait until you ride up!

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Suffering Loss...



For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,] that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. - John 3:16


A local Christian station played a call-in message from a 13-year-old boy who lived on a ranch. The boy told the DJ he needed to share what God told him that morning. Surprised at the child's obvious wisdom, the DJ encouraged his story. The child had become attached to a calf from its birth. It had broken its back and the boy opted to put the animal down on his own. Tearfully, he related his loss to the Father saying, "Why does it hurt so bad when we loose someone?" His next remark brought the listening community to their knees. "God spoke to me and said, 'I know your loss. I know how it feels. I gave my only son to die for you.'"


Having worked for a veterinarian for 15 years, I have not only experienced the joys of individuals with new pets, but I have suffered their loss as well. I have sat in the floor of vet's office, while she put to rest the pain and suffering of my own animal - one that meant the world to me. I snuggled the sweet head of my Dalmatian and watched as his eyes pleaded for relief, yet at the same time they poured masses of forgiveness - something he sensed I would need. I suffered loss - painful, distressing loss, the kind that felt as though my heart would shred. All I could do was caress him, grasping to hold on to the unconditional love he'd faithfully given me for 13 years. Sobs -heart wrenching sobs, was all that offered me any relief.


There are times when we become so engrossed in our own loss, whether it's the loss of a friend, family member, a pet, or even a job that we cannot imagine that our Father in heaven suffered loss as well. More so, the loss He felt was an intentional loss - a sacrifice made purely for our benefit. He stood from the heavens and watched as His one and only Son was beaten and battered, broken and torn. Our natural instinct is to reach to provide protection for our children when they are hurting, and so it was for God. Still He had to step back and endure the agony of watching His Son die, and not being able to help. Imagine having the power of creation in one fingertip and resisting the insurmountable desire to save His child the pain.


The Father knows the experience of loss. His heart felt the effects as His Son bled and died. What an unconditional love. What an amazing sacrifice. The next time that loss hits home, mourn and grieve, but remember that God grieves having made the ultimate sacrifice for us. He is a glorious and almighty Father, isn't He?


When I walked with God this morning I said to Him, "Wow. You love me that much, heh?"


"More that you can imagine. More than you can conceive. More, more, more."


"That's a lot, Father."


"Thank you for noticing. It's because you are everything to me." He bumped my shoulder with His and I stumbled slightly. Amazingly enough, being who God is, His hand steadied me -- never letting me fall.

Monday, December 10, 2007

In His Creation...


This is what God the Lord says - he who created the heavens and stretched them out who spread out the earth and all that comes of it, who gives breath to its people and life to those who walk on it.....I am the Lord; this is my name!
Isaiah 42:5 & 8




I recently stood on The Chimney Top, a beautiful point in the Smokies, and as I stared across the pass, the realization of the Father's handiwork was almost more than I could absorb. I wondered just for a moment, if this was heaven. Looking down from so far above the rest of the world, I asked God, "Is this what it's like to be in heaven?" A breeze brushed past me, wrapping my hair around my face. Looking over my shoulder I could imagine the Father, sitting leaned against a tree, legs crossed and hands clasped together behind His head. He was so serene - so pleased that I had come.


He patted the ground next to Him and motioned for me to sit - and I did. He pulled me close to his chest and kissed my head as only a father can do with his children. Yet He said nothing. Instead, He began to hum and that surprised me. I'd never thought about God humming before. He rocked gently from side to side and softly sang to me. When His voice left His mouth, the wind grasped hold and carried it across the pass. Everything hushed to listen. A deer lifted her head from her grazing, slowly closing her eyes as she raised her nose into the air. Her head gently cocked to one side and her ears flicked. She was touched by the sound. The trees leaned toward the echo and there was no doubt they heard.


We so often think of God's creation in such simple terms, when in fact there is nothing simple about it. Looking at the river bed alone, staring at the boulders and their immense side makes you ask, "Father, how did you do this? The rocks aren't randomly placed rather they are meticulously set in the perfect spot for the water to rush across them in just the right way." He smiles and continues to rock me in His arms.


God could have stopped at the creation of the world. He didn't have to add man. He already knew the outcome when he scooped that hand full of dirt and formed Adam. Still His world was not complete without us. He made us anyway - unworthy and undeserving of any of His glorious works. He wants to share His creation just as He shared His son. He had given us everything. Absolutely everything. Did you realize that? He has given everything without hesitation. What kind of love is that? Certainly one I have difficulty getting my mind around.


So, I scooted in just a bit closer as my Father in heaven filled me with His glory. I felt His peace, enjoyed His comfort, renewed in His presence. In His creation I sought Him and He was there. We talked awhile, but mostly I listened as He filled the mountains with His voice - something I never imagined God doing. He is a God of surprises and just when I think there is nothing unique left, He hums..... and he does it for me.

Friday, December 7, 2007

Thorny Issues (Part of the He Said - She Said Series)


Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them… As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful." Matthew 13:7 & 22

(The He Said- She Said Series can be found at the Christian Devotions web site)

There are things this world chooses to hoard, thoughts and reasoning that simply cannot be understood. The whys of issues – why does this happen or why does that happen. When I can’t find the understanding for the mishaps of life, I become frustrated and angry. For example, why is it, the harder I try to do what the Father asks, the harder Satan attacks me? Why is that?

I understand that God never promised us an easy path but what about the efforts we make along the way? Doesn’t that count for something? There are times when temptation is almost more than I can bear. The little things gnaw and pick at me and like a mosquito bite constantly itching. The more I scratch the worse it itches. For every good thing I manage it’s like three bad things erupt and sometimes, the work I’ve done gets torn to shreds. Why is that?

It goes back to a parable – the one where the sower is tossing seeds everywhere. Some seeds find good soil, some find rocks, or the pathway, others find good soil but they’re overtaken by thorns that are already planted firmly. For those works that fall into the thicket and grow I find there must be a two-fold reason for their taking roots and sprouting. The first being that glimmer of hope much of the world misses. Even in the pain and frustration of the thorns, the Father springs to life a single flower of hope. It may only last a short time, but it’s there to offer hope. The second being, a short-lived usefulness, one that sprouts in the middle of chaos, rises slightly above the thicket to set an example. It may soon meet its demise, but the fact is God used it temporarily. At least that’s how God tries to explain it to me.

The Father constantly reminds me that the work I do is never fruitless. I may not see the benefits but then, it may not be for me to see. The whys of the world remain the worlds’, and I still never come into the understanding of what happened to the efforts I’d worked toward. Instead, I feel a little hurt – even cheated, that they’ve been choked out. Perhaps a little selfish in thinking that the fruits were mine to begin with – a bit cocky, don’t you think?

Still the whole ordeal is a learning process. The issue is whether I’m willing to learn or if I insist on continually questioning the “how comes.” When I trust, all my efforts are just that --“efforts.” God can use those where ever and however He’s sees fit. Suddenly the why’s of the world don’t matter anymore. It’s that “everything works for the good” part. God takes the efforts, even when they’ve fallen into unsustainable ground, and causes them to flourish for a short time. Are they able to remain strong and fit for duty – probably not, they’re growing among the thorns, but the Father turns them into a good that suits His will.

Ultimately, it’s not for me to question the whys of the world, rather it is my task to plant the seeds, to work and produce what God can cultivate and use to His good. I’d be lying to say that it doesn’t bother me a bit. It does bother me, especially when I see a project take root, flourish, then suddenly wither and die on the vine. However, it’s not about me, now is it? It’s all about the Father and his righteous plan. And the sooner I learn that, the greater my reward. I’m human and I’m tempted and tried daily.

It’s not fair nor is it right - especially when I am able to call myself Christian. The fact remains, what has fallen and taken root can be used to the glory of the Father. So from the madness of the world, comes goodness. From the trials and temptations I face come strength and wisdom. It doesn’t pay for me to try and dig the flowering plants from among the thorns and hope they’ll thrive if transplanted. All I manage to get from the deal is scratched up. They have fallen and taken root in the soreness of life. Now God will use them to His glory and the work was worth the effort.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Spirit


Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit – Galatians 5:25

Lisa rested her feet in the starting blocks. She dug her toes deep into the cinders and twisted, getting herself situated for a perfect start. Head down, fingers lightly touching the sharp rocks, she bent her knees and lifted her back. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the cheers of her fellow students. This was the final 100 yard dash – a sprint that would either catapult her into a college scholarship or rate her as just another runner.

The starter lifted his arm and shouted, “Ready!” Lisa snapped into position. “Set!” She sucked in a deep breath. The gun fired and it was as if the scene went into slow motion. Her body slowly extended as the muscles in her legs tightened shoving her off the starting blocks. She used her arms to push and pull, accelerating her forward.

To her left, she could hear the breath of her competitor - short, hard puffs of air escaped her lungs giving Lisa the impression an old steam engine was coming. To her right a clumsy runner, arms flailing and grunting. The three runners hit the halfway mark shoulder to shoulder, the only one leading was the one whose head might jut forward. Lisa tried to keep her eyes fixed on the finish line, looking to the right or left would not only break her concentration but cause her to lose momentum.

An elbow from the flailing runner to her right flew up catching Lisa just below the armpit, sending her careening into the on-coming train in the next lane. Her feet tangled and she went headfirst into the cinder. Her hands had no sooner hit the ground until instinct yanked her back. She dug the toes of her shoes into the ground and shot forward, now eyeing the rear of the pack instead of being in the front. She quickly made headway, fueled by anger and frustration, passing runners hard and fast.

She regained a third-place position, not enough to win, but enough to take a ribbon. Immediately after the race officials escorted her to the third place platform and helped her up. Blood streamed down both her legs, and her palms had embedded pieces of cinder. She was disappointed. When the awards ceremony was over, the winner – the clumsy runner, pulled her ribbon from around her neck and placed it around Lisa’s. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to elbow you. But never in my life have I seen such spirit. Take this, I don’t deserve it.”

What does it mean to have spirit? It means having the heart of the Holy Spirit – it’s that deep part of us that reaches out as the example to others, the kindness, the hope, the determination to be what is good and right. Having spirit is a genuine quality, an honesty, a willingness to do for others without expectation or reward. Spirit is the heart of Christ. When we push forward with the intention of finishing the plan, move ahead with forgiveness and kindness, even when we’ve been wronged, then finish the task – we have spirit. Think of spirit in these terms. Christ was bound, beaten, and murdered on a cross for us without uttering a single harsh word. He took to paradise a thief who hung by His side, and then three days later, He returned in glory to finish the task. No personal gain, no rewards, only the spirit to save.

Prayer: Lord, may our hearts be filled with Your spirit.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Finding God in the Stillness


The Lord is wonderfully good to those who wait for Him and seek Him. So it is good to wait quietly for salvation from the Lord. – Lamentations 3:25-26

This morning I walked into the sunrise. The air was so cold it froze my breath into a fog that shattered, falling to the ground like a broken bottle. I grasped hold of my turtleneck with my fingers and heaved it securely over my mouth and nose, shrugging my shoulders and pulling my arms tight against my chest, I peered over my knuckles. I held the collar tight with my hands and breathed a long, deep puff of air into my shirt. There was that fog again.

The sky lay streaked with lines of angry clouds, dark and dingy –like the tinge of gray that happens when the whites are washed with the jeans. A purple glow fell just beyond the angry sky. The mountain stretched past that, reaching majestically toward the heavens and just to the right, was the edge of sunrise.

I’d never considered the edge of sunrise before – never questioned what it held or why it was. I’d only enjoyed its beauty, only taken in what peace I could gather from its existence.
How often have I stood and took in the sun and all its aspects? Hundreds of times. Sunrise, sunset, mid-day sun, afternoon sun – yet I’d never considered the possibility of waiting quietly for its message. So often we view the beauty the Father has placed before us but we never
wait to see what message it holds. God speaks to us in many ways yet we rarely have our eyes or ears tuned into what may be blatantly strewn before us.

Learning to wait on God is hard. I find myself giggling my foot or tapping my toes impatiently against the hardwood floor, encouraging the passing of time. When I really want to seek after Him, and find Him I need to look into the quiet and stillness. That’s where God is. That’s where He waits to share encouragement, hope, and love for me. The quiet is where He speaks in that still soft voice and where I can hear it echo clearly through my heart. The key is cocking my head ever so slightly to the side, squinting my eyes, then holding my breath. All I hear is the pulsing of my heart. Then suddenly as clear as a bell, His voice comes through.

“I wondered when you’d come. Enjoy the sunrise?”

“Yes, it’s amazing how the purple tint pushes away the anger of the darkness.”

“Nice, you caught that. I’m pleased.” The Father said as He rubbed his fingers across His chin.

“Oh, and I saw this side of the sunrise and I wondered who stood on the other side. And if they could see what I saw?”

“Interesting concept. Anything else notable that you saw?”

“I noticed my skin carried the reflection of the purple sky – that same glow.”

“Nice. That was me warming you from within.”

“More so, I felt what it was like to wait for You, Father. To anticipate Your presence. And the wait was the most fulfilling wait I’ve ever had.”

“Then you found me in the stillness of the sunrise. Good job. I am always in the stillness. Just learn to wait and listen. You will hear me.”

What a wonderful promise to know that in stillness of the sunrise, the Father waits to wrap us tight in His presence. He loves to spend time with His children. This is where He teaches us, disciplines us, rebukes us, and loves us. Seek him in the stillness and find that He is wonderfully good.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Dance of the Gooberheads


The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer. – Psalms 6:9

God must have a sense of humor. I can’t imagine His not having a hardy one when He relaxes in our home. He pushes the recliner back and kicks open the foot rest, then wiggles into a comfortable position just to watch the entertainment our family provides. Better yet – He continually teaches me through it.

I recently popped a bowl filled of water in the microwave. Punching the timer to 1.25 minutes, I hit the on button then headed to the drawer to grab an oven mitt. I slipped the mitt over my right hand just in time to open the microwave and retrieve the boiling water. Between the thickness of the mitt and the steam in the microwave, I lost my grip on the bowl and scalding water careened down my hand and arm. Shouting was an understatement. Hopping around the kitchen in agony, trying to blink away the tears only led from one disaster to the next. My older son grabbed the mitt and yanked, taking with it, hide and all, while my younger son, grabbed my arm and buried it in the ice bucket from the freezer. Though the three of us orchestrated a perfectly in-sync dance of idiots through the kitchen the fact remained, I had scalded my hand and arm seriously.

After several hours of ice, and the pain that accompanies a nasty burn, the redness had centered itself around my wrist and was joined by a bit of swelling. In the living room I could hear my adult children roaring with laughter as they shared the story with my husband. I furrowed my brow and starred at the burn. This really wasn’t funny. It hurt. Still my family found great humor in the fact that as I hopped through the kitchen I found myself stepping in the scalding water as well.

Feeling a bit sorry for myself, I emailed my friend Mark and relayed the story to him. He immediately returned a concerned note and suggested I put myself on the prayer list. I couldn’t put such a gooberhead thing on the prayer list. Still, Mark reminded me I wouldn’t hesitate to put his gooberhead antics on the list – I snickered because he was right.

I spun my chair around and gazed out the window at the rain. “God, it was a stupid accident. Really embarrassing.”

“Entertaining, at least,” the Father remarked, “still an accident.”

“I’m embarrassed. Wounded.” That’s when the Father chuckled out loud.

“Wounded. Shesh, your gift in writing is coming out. Interesting choice of words – wounded. However you word the phrase, it was still an accident and you were…okay, wounded.”

I could feel His sarcastic tone. “You want to know about the gooberhead things?”

“First of all, I already know about the gooberhead things. And secondly, why it is so hard to ask? We’ve been through this time and again.”

I hung my head. “I don’t know why.”

“I do.” The Father leaned close and whispered. “Pride.”

The words shot through me like a bolt of lightening. “Pride?”

“Yes, pride. Get the hint? Put the dance of the gooberheads on the list. I care about those things as well. I hear even the gooberhead prayers and for the record, they aren’t gooberheads to me. That’s strictly your term. Humorous as it is, that one is uniquely yours.”

Isn’t that amazing? The Father wants to hear every detail, good, bad or indifferent. He hears our cries for mercy and accepts our prayers. Lesson learned – again, the hard way.

Prayer: Lord, when I am stubborn, forgive me. When I am foolish, love me anyway. When I’m a gooberhead – keep me safe.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Seeking His Comfort

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. – 1 Corinthians 1:3-4

There is not one of us who has not experienced uncertainty, hurt, or pain. It seems the way of the world to jerk us around, reeking havoc in our somewhat peaceful lives. Our problem may be illness, trouble with a child, or a tough decision. Still it doesn’t matter what the issue is – what matters, is finding the peace to live with the outcome.

When I took my walk with the Father, I asked Him, “How do I find comfort when my heart is heavy, when life is shoving me in every direction?” I felt Him snug me tight under His armpit and that was what comfort “felt” like.

“You trust that I will provide. I will use the situation to show you good when your eyes are ready to see.”

“Meanwhile, I’m miserable?”

“Maybe, if you choose to dwell in unhappiness. But if you step forward in faith, you’ll find rest. It may not be complete resolve, but you’ll find comfort and acceptance. I’ll provide that for you – even if the situation doesn’t turn out to suit you. Better yet, when you least expect it, you’ll be able to relate that peace to someone else. They can, in turn, share with someone else – so the hand of peace continues to extend.”

“So comfort is not resolve?”

“Nope. Not always. But it is acceptance and peace. So trust me.”

God has never once promised us life would be easy. Even His son had a difficult life on earth. He does, however, promise us an abiding comfort when we ask. We must be willing to ask, to seek, and to wait for the peace He will provide. His grace is sufficient for us.

I felt the Father gently kiss my forehead. “Do you remember who’s tender kisses brought you comfort?” He asked me. A flood of memories dumped into my head –good memories.

“I do. Daddy used to kiss me on the forehead.”

“And what did you find in that kiss?”

“Comfort.”

“There you have it. Things are not better, but you’re okay. Comfort.”

God makes such good sense when we listen for His voice – when we give Him the opportunity to work in our lives. It’s not always easy, but there is comfort to be found and we are able to share that with others when they are in need. It’s like He says, “His grace is sufficient for us.” What comfort!

Prayer: Precious Father, when my life seems out of sorts, offer me comfort and give me good eyes to see it.

Friday, November 30, 2007

How Do I Pray?

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will. – Romans 8:26-27

Prayer time has become more than my time to sit and talk to the Father. It’s reached a pinnacle – a place where I feel lost and alone without. The Father has become such a good friend that I find I miss Him when I am doing other projects.

Recently, I have found it very difficult to pray for myself. It’s a bit awkward and feels somewhat selfish. There have been moments when my heart has felt sad and alone, troubled and I had no idea how to ask God for what I needed. When He moves into our lives He takes the situations that happen to us and uses those things to shape and refine us. So when Romans mentions all things working to the good of those who love the Lord, it doesn’t necessarily mean everything is good. It means God uses the events of our lives to His good. I think that good referred there, is our spiritual aspects.

There are times when life bogs us down spiritually and when that happens we never really know how to ask God to help us. Our cries feel selfish or unwarranted – maybe they seem whinny. Rather than ask –we clam up and fail to lay the sadness before the one who can change it. The Father already knows our needs and our insecurities. He waits for us to acknowledge them and that means searching our hearts deeply enough to find those issues and lay them before Him. He cannot and many times does not work in us until we recognize and are willing to lay our needs before Him.

It’s a painful process at times. Even when our lives are overall joyful, none of us are perfect. Below the surface lies the sin we know is there but many times choose to ignore. My heart grows sad when I dig into these parts. A dear friend put it beautifully, “Sometimes you have to pick the scabs of old wounds and let them bleed before God can clean up the mess,” and how true is that? Completely accurate.

I said to God just the other day, “I don’t know what to ask Father.”

“Ask for what you need.”

“It sounds selfish and wrong.”

“Let me be the judge of that. That’s not your place.”

“But I feel wrong asking for myself.”

“You are never wrong to ask. This is how I work in you to repair the damages. If you don’t ask, then you aren’t willing.”

“Oh, I get it. So, You’re saying that if I don’t ask I’m not to the spot you want me.”

“Kinda. It’s a matter of submission. You don’t have to pinpoint the exact need, because sometimes even you don’t know how to articulate that. But I do. You simply need to say, ‘Father there’s something there. I need help. I need to understand,’ and then I take care of the rest.”

“So I should ask anyway?”

“Most definitely. Ask even when you don’t know what to ask for, and I will fill in the blanks. Remember, seek me and you will find me.”

So, the Father makes a good point. When I don’t know how to pray, I simply pray anyway. I just ask and admit that I’m not sure. When I seek him and ask – He finds me.

Thursday, November 29, 2007



I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned: but time and chance happen to them all. – Ecclesiastes 9:11

I walked a path once that required more of me than I was willing to give, more than I could afford to sacrifice. And remaining on the path would have meant losing sight of who I was. I’d trudged across the potholes, leaped a few crevices, and balanced my way across a few slick logs to get to a better side – even had a good friend say, “You really need to look deep into those things, find the demon that gnaws at you.

This path I had walked held a lot of vested interest. I’d put years into following the road, dodging oncoming obstacles, and even prided myself that I’d found a parking place at the end – one with a view. So when looked and found my tires a little flat, I realized the success had been less than kind to my vehicle.

All the efforts I’d put into this journey, all the time and care, seemed to have been sucked out of me. Things bubbled to the surface and I found myself floundering. I had run a good race, remained strong and faithful, yet still, harsh things happened. I had prepared for mishap, readied myself for the future, so I thought − but when things began to go array I couldn’t understand why.

I asked my friend “What does this mean?”

His reply. “Doesn’t matter if you’re the strongest solider in the battle if you happen to be the one who gets struck by lightening.” I had to chuckle at his simplistic yet effective answer. He was absolutely right −it all comes down to chance. Life happens to us all, unexpected, unwarranted, and uncalled for at times, but it happens. Regardless of the time and effort we place on the task at hand, anything can happen because life is still abundantly active. Who we are, what our position is, or how well we perform has its benefits, but in the greater scheme of things, if we’re the ones who get struck by lightening, it doesn’t matter.

I wondered for a moment then posed the question to the Father. “What does it matter?”

“But it does matter.”

“Not if you’re the one who gets struck by lightening.”

“Trust me, it matters.” the Father spoke. “It’s important you do your best in all that you do. It matters to me.”

“But if wealth can’t help, if strength and hope can’t stop bad things from happening then what is the point?”

“Point? There is no point. There is only the joy in serving me. Enjoy the talents and abilities I’ve entrusted you. Life happens, but it is full of wondrous and divine rewards. The bad is rare. The good far outweighs the bad. Work at all you do and I will lead you past the hard parts.” I nodded in agreement.

Time and chance will take its toll from time to time, but the efforts never go unnoticed. God always loves our efforts.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Servants



Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not men, because you know that the Lord will reward everyone for whatever good he does, whether he is slave or free. – Ephesians 6:7

These days mentioning to someone they need to learn to be a servant can get a person into a hot water. We’ve become a society so wrapped in political correctness, that we lose sight of the things that are simple and have great meaning. I have two friends who are both high school teachers. Both are wonderful and godly men taking pride in the service of teaching our youth. Both set the example of working hard at the jobs they represent. The frustrations and work involved in being a high school teacher is at best, overwhelming at times. Yet, they willingly and joyfully step into the classroom daily, having the sound and kind heart of a servant. Ready to serve without question.

The great thing about these men is their willingness to teach me. When I add a third gentleman into the mix, one who has opted to mentor me in writing, I am overtaken by the blessings these servants of Christ have so willingly given me. Never once have they failed to offer me help, or support when I’ve been struggling along the way. They serve wholeheartedly and with great vigor because they not only love what they do, but they love serving God. They, with the knowledge they’ve been provided, willingly share. Though making a living is part of that mix, it’s not just their job – it’s a love.

Nothing frustrates me more than to stand inside the walls of the church and have members say, “I can’t do that because….” or “I don’t have any talents,” because nothing can be further from the truth. God created each one of us, individually and uniquely – within our make up He planted His gifts, our talents, and our joys. Not one person was forgotten when He took the time to form us.

Becoming a living servant means taking the joys God has blessed us with and freely sharing them, whether inside our workplace or out. It’s giving without expecting something in return. You see, these three men all have wonderful gifts and their willingness to share them exceeds that of a job title. It extends to people just like me who love their friendship, admire their talents, and understand they are available at a nod to serve God wholeheartedly. So as I walked onto the porch to say good morning to the Father, I asked Him, “Why am I so blessed, Lord, to have wonderful friends like these people?”

He leaned against me, crossed His arms, and blew His warm breath into the icy morning air. “Because they are willing.”

“Willing to teach?” I asked.

“No, willing to serve. Because they love me and they love you. I knew you’d need them and their uniqueness in your life, and equally you’d be needed in theirs.”

“So you planned these friendships?”

“No, those you developed on your own. But I used the opportunity. I do that you know, bring individuals together who are willing to carry my cause - -willing to serve. I have a plan you know.”

“So, I’ve heard.” I reply.

“When you become a servant you will be served.” I cocked my head to one side and smiled. God is such an awesome God.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

His Workmanship

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. − Ephesians 2:10

Opening the door from my office, I stepped into the hallway. The house was shrouded in darkness. I glanced at my watch, 8:30 p.m.-- much too early for my son to be in bed. Since it was just the two of us home, I wondered why the house was black.

“Where are you son?” I shuffled my way toward the stairway. Nothing could have surprised me any more than a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. I stood at the top of the stairs, tears filling my eyes. The Christmas tree stood centered in front of the picture window, leaning slightly to the left. It’s branches hung a bit heavier on one side with glass ornaments, while strands of ribbon tightly wrapped the top right of the limbs.

The lights in the house were out, so I could enjoy the warmth of the Christmas tradition my son had worked so hard to provide.

His disability prevents him from doing a stellar job – straightening the limbs, sorting the decorations evenly around the tree, but none of that mattered because the greatest gift I could have received was him, standing in his famous Peter Pan stance, grinning from ear to ear. The work he’d done was done especially for me, no strings attached. He didn’t ask for a compliment nor did he ask if I liked the tree. What he said was enough.

“Just for you mom. All for you.” And I cried

There are times I cry because of his mental retardation – times I feel so badly for him, wish and want that he’d not be faced with the challenges he wades through daily. After all, no parent wants their child to suffer. But his heart is so genuine, his intention so pure, that I see how God uses him daily to make me a better person.

He is not a perfect child by the standards of the world. In fact, some would say God’s workmanship was a bit off the day He created him. However, I would disagree. God had things prepared, ready for my son’s entry into the world. He knew the challenges he would face, knew the strength he’d have, understood the compassion and genuine knack he’d possess to view the world from a simplistically wise standpoint. God knew Chase would affect many. God knew he would affect me.

There was no fishing for a compliment in the work he’d done, only the thought that he was doing it for me – free of charge, completely unexpected, and filled with love. The Father stood on the other side of the tree, hands on his hips, in the same Peter Pan stance, nodding with pride. His shoulder pressed against the tree holding it steady until I got to His side to straighten it in it’s stand.

“Isn’t this nice?” God asked as He walked around beside Chase and rested His arm on my son’s shoulder. Chase flinched for a second, almost as though he felt God touch him.

“Indeed it is,” I said, “The most beautiful workmanship I’ve ever seen.”

Chase smiled a satisfactory grin, pleased that I was impressed. I walked around the tree eyeing the three ornaments on one limb and never once considering that they be separated, rather leaving the work of a loving servant to be a lasing reminder that God is almighty in His plan. Understanding that if one of the Christmas balls should slip from the limb, that it would land on the carpet and not the hardwood floor, protecting it from shattering. His workmanship is perfect – flawless and complete, for He is God.

Prayer: Lord, I am blessed You have given me such wonderful rewards.