Where's the Flashlight -- She Said

(Part of the He Said - She Said Series. Visit www.christiandevotions.us for the He Said compliment to this devotion.)

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” –John 8:12

Growing up, I was a Girl Scout. In fact, I still remember the troop number. Girl Scout Troop 181 and my mom was our leader. She was the ultimate as far as leaders go. Mom was creative and imaginative, as well as a firm believer that girls could do anything if they had the right training. Whatever we set out to do as a troop, mom researched it and provided all the necessary tools for us girls to succeed.

Mom spent several weeks teaching us the basics of hiking and camping. We learned how to roll our sleeping bags into tight bundles and to build a fire in the rain, how to store our food safely when we slept under the stars, and how to survive if we should become lost. The greatest part was by the time we’d entered high school, she’d prepared us for survival hiking.

When I signed up for my first survival hike along the Appalachian Trail, daddy freaked out.

“It’s dangerous. There’s bears. You’ll get killed. That mountain is no place for young girls.” He came up with every excuse he could think of to scare me. Nothing worked. I was confident in my skills. In his last-ditch effort to turn myself and Beth away from the survival hike, daddy threw in. “What’ll you do on that mountain at night when it’s pitch black and you have no light?” I kissed his forehead and told him I’d be fine, that’s why God made flashlights.

We headed to Boone, NC and the first leg of our three day survival hike. Manned with only an extra pair of socks, a piece of plastic cut to my height, a zip lock bag of matches, and a flashlight we hit the trail with a very competent guide. I patted my pocket to be sure I had my flashlight (Dad had managed to scare me just a bit). The first day passed quickly and as we prepared to bed down, the glow from our fire lighted the entire side of the bluff. I lay there watching as the flame died and there was nothing more than red embers. Darkness closed in around me and suddenly a chill of fear swept over me. Dad was right. It was pitch black. I held my hand in front of my face and couldn’t see it. I pulled out my flashlight from my cargo pants and clicked it on. The beam flooded across the other hikers highlighting them as though they were actors on a stage and it was my job to run the spot light. I was amazed at how far that beam of light could stretch. There was great comfort in the thin beam of light. Regardless of how black the night was, I could still find my way. Flipping off the light, I stuffed it back into my pocket and rolled to my side grateful for flashlights and new batteries.

I recounted that experience when I spoke for at Ladies Retreat and though we laughed about some of the antics of the survival hike, the point was we needed light to lead us through the darkness. There is never a day that passes when I am not awed by the light of Christ. He promised us that He was the beam of light we needed to follow – the beacon that would show us the way. His light is filled with joy and peace, contentment and safety. Even in the deepest darkness his light will cut through and provide us direction. When we seek the light of Christ, we will find the hope of a new tomorrow and a friend who will never leave our side. A savior. Now when I look for a flashlight, I turn to Christ. The best part -- He doesn’t require batteries, just our hearts.

A Taste of God

Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him. – Psalm 34:8

It’s the little things in life that brings us joy. Perhaps a good book, a quiet time, a good cup of coffee – we all have that one little pleasure that we look forward to on a daily basis. For me, it’s finding that opportune time to sit still, remain motionless for a few minutes, ponder. This is the time I spend with the Father.

I’ve often said, that God wakes me up every morning. It’s true. I don’t have an alarm clock by the bed. The television has an automatic clock that flips it on at 6:00 a.m., but the truth of the matter is, I’m two hours into my quiet time before it clicks to on.

For example. I’m sound asleep, snug as a bug in a rug, when I feel like someone is shining a 1000 watt light in my face. I roll over and the light intensifies. Cracking open one eye, I realize it really is a bright light. I cocked my head to the side peering out the window. Bigger than life, hangs the moon – full, bright, enormous. I crawl to my knees and lift the blinds fully open. The shape filled my window completely and I could have sworn I felt the warmth from the soft yellow glow. The pale circle appeared somewhat misty, and silhouettes of early morning birds darted back and forth. Now that’s a great way to wake in the morning. Had I have slept until the television kicked on, I would have missed this awesome sight.

It’s the little things that bring us pleasure. I find I miss those joys when I opt out of my “God time.” It’s easy to get busy with life, failing to make the opportunity to visit with the Father. These days I seek Him a bit deeper, long for His presence in my day. I find I miss Him when I skip our morning chats. It’s becoming increasingly more important that I have this time – personal and private. I have Him all to myself. Here, in this moment, God leans back in the other computer chair and props His feet on the desk. He pushes the chair just enough to rock, and I hear his voice offer me instruction. Sometimes we chat, other times we just sit. Those are the times I feel Him lean forward and rest his arm on the back of my chair, watching what I type on the computer screen, saying, “Naw, backspace, not a good word choice.”

This morning time is my chance to taste the love of God, seek His blessings, and find my refuge. Is it joyous every morning? I have to say, no. There are times when we spat. I have my mind made up, but then so does God, and for the most part, I go down kicking and screaming. Overall, I’ve become addicted to these precious moments God carves out in His day just for me. He wants me to taste His presence, seek His love. It’s a reward.

This morning God woke me up to see the moon. “What did you think?” He asked.

“Awesome.” I replied. His chair squeaked as His leaned back.

“Ready to work?”

“Yep. Got my Nestle’s Quik right here.”

“Good. Here’s what’s on my mind.”

Prayer: Lord, wake me to show me Your secrets.

I Can't Get Enough

The LORD make his face to shine upon you” – Numbers 6:24


If you know me at all, it’s not hard to figure out where I go when I need to bask in the Son. Ask anyone. Their response is, “She meets God on the mountain.”

When I need to think, to ponder – I find myself on the bluff overlooking the river. There’s this huge rock that juts out over the water (not a place I find myself looking straight down very often…things will start to spin), but if I sit there and stare across the water, wow. I’m completely taken in by the peace. See, that’s where I’m sure God spends His evenings. Leaned back on a rock, feet extended and crossed at the ankles, hands locked behind His head, observing what He’s created.

I can go there, sit down and swear He nudges me to move over so He can join me. The quiet is almost deafening, however still serene and placid. All I have to do is open my eyes and try not to blink. Hold my eyes open until the tears puddle and drip down my cheeks, because if I close them for even a second, I’ll miss an expression on God’s face.

The breeze gently whispers through the leaves, reminding me of the sound of the ocean waves washing on the beach-- that constant in and out swish. First soft, then escalating, and falling back into soft again. Though I find I have to really pay attention or I can’t hear His words over the beauty. Paying attention is not something I’m good at, still God doesn’t seem to mind. He knows I’ve come to spend time with Him and that’s all that matters at the time.

I often wonder if He tires of me. Gawking over His mountain like I do, but I can’t seem to get it out of my head. I know when I’m here I’m soaking in as much of God as I can stand. For me, I never tire. Lose patience upon occasion, but never tire of the beauty of the Father. I long for Him to gaze upon me and call me His own and hope that I am a worthy addition to the slot in His day He’s carved out for “me time.”

I love to meet God on the mountain. It’s His territory, a place I’m allowed the opportunity to visit for a short time. Borrow for a while, even lust after. When I feel as though my legs have been taken from beneath me, sad and alone, the mountain is where I seek His presence. You see, I know He’s always there --sitting on the ledge, picking His teeth with a twig and waiting for me to join Him.

When He turns His face toward me I am filled with a comfortable warmth, a peace. Fulfilled, so to speak. Revived.
If you want to find me, just look on the mountain. I’ll be reclining on the boulder over the bluff, smiling, taking in the brightness He shines on me. Just me on the mountain with God.

Freedom

Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God. –

1 Peter 2:16

I am proud to be an American. When the patriotic songs play, the sniffing in the background is me. There’s just something that touches my heart cords when it comes to thinking about the freedoms I’ve been given.

I was raised in a household where you always placed your hand over your heart during the national anthem, and your hat came off every time an American flag passed by. My father was a veteran of World War II. At the ripe age of 17, he entered the U.S. Army and proudly fought in the Pacific Theatre. He was shot through the neck and shoulder by a sniper, then wounded a second time by a mortar shell. My dad was a courageous man who did not think twice about his own safety, rather he thought of the greater good in the job he was given. He, along with thousands of other brave men and women, paid a huge price for the freedoms each one of us enjoy today.

Freedom is an ironic word in the fact that it’s root word is free. There’s nothing free about freedom – it was bought and paid for with the lives of thousands who believed in the cause. A day never passes that I do not give thanks for those who stayed the course. Where would we be without their sacrifice?

A different type of freedom was bought and paid for through a battle that is still being waged. We are free from sin’s price because of the sacrifice of Christ. Because of Him, the curtain in the temple was torn and now, nothing separates from the Father. This sacrifice broke the bondage of death and sent Satan kicking and screaming in defeat. Still there are those who are not grateful – those who refuse to look at the grander scheme of things. They find pleasure in their greed and sin, covering it beneath the blanket of freedom and the “right to have.”

Our soldiers who have died, gave their lives in the name of freedom, so that others may enjoy its rewards, servants of our country. Jesus, the ultimate servant, died that we might enjoy the privileges of eternal life. Regardless of how we look at the issue, our freedom, spiritual and physical, came to us in blood. Blood shed freely so that others might live.

We are a nation who is blessed, but we are a people loved by God – loved so much, that He sent His son to fight the battle in our behalf. Are you grateful for the freedom?

Prayer: Precious Lord, we are so undeserving of the glories You have blessed us with. Thank You, Father for the sacrifice made in our behalf.