In Praise of the Ordinary Woman

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Our ordinariness offers us kinship with our Savior and reveals the extraordinary love of God.

I am average. I promise I’m not being self-deprecating. As my teens would say, it is what it is. I am average height. I’m not a tiny person nor a tall person. I’m average weight. I even wear a size, wait for it, medium. I have medium brown hair, not dark brown, not light brown, just medium. I’m average looking. I’ve quite often been traveling, and a random person will tell me I look “just like” one of their friends. Yep, because I look like every other middle-aged soccer mom. My name is even average; given to every other girl born between 1970 and 1975.  I used to get frustrated at my ordinariness. Every person wants to have one thing that makes them special, makes them a superstar in some way. I am no different. Yet as I pondered my ordinariness, I kept coming back to Isaiah 53:2:

quaking-grass-1837773_1280“For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.”

When Jesus walked the earth, there was nothing about his appearance that would draw someone to him. He wasn’t tall and handsome like Saul, or even “ruddy and had beautiful eyes, and handsome” like David. His name was even average. The name of every other Jewish boy born in his day. At the end of the day when moms called their kids home for dinner I’m sure the shout of “Jesus! Dinner!” had twenty boys turning their heads. If you lived in the time of Jesus and passed him on the street, you probably wouldn’t have noticed him. Maybe that’s why in Matthew 13, the folks that watched Jesus grow up in Nazareth asked, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary? And are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things? And they took offense at him.” (13:54-57). In other words, how could this ordinary young man with no apparent special gifts or abilities or appearance to speak of, be doing these extraordinary things?

They didn’t understand that what made Jesus extraordinary was not his appearance or his earthly name or his earthly heritage or even his occupation as a carpenter’s apprentice. All those outward things that we too often put a premium on in our culture—appearance, family, popularity, power, position, achievement–He wasn’t extraordinary because of any of those markers. What made Him extraordinary was who He was—Son of God and Son of Man. That makes His coming to earth even more incredible. He condescended to us—became human. He didn’t enter humanity as the supernatural King of Kings. He came as an average Joe, a regular guy. A man who could identify with His creation deeply and profoundly. He experienced life, not as the King He was, but as an ordinary man. So He could fulfill these words, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15)

 

Jesus came and lived an ordinary life, was an ordinary man, and it was in His ordinariness that He could become the perfect sacrifice, could fulfill the extraordinary purpose of becoming the Savior of the world. The only One who could defeat sin and death and establish an eternal kingdom. Because of Jesus, this ordinary girl has access to an extraordinary God. This God who makes all things new. This God who wants us to come in our weakness and our ordinariness so that we can point others to an extraordinary God. A God who loves us right where we are and just as we are, yet doesn’t leave us as we are. A God who delights in His creation, all of us, those the world perceives as ordinary and those the world perceives as especially gifted or talented or beautiful.

And it is in Christ, that I have a new identity as a daughter of the King, an extraordinary position for this ordinary girl. I didn’t have to earn that position. I didn’t have to look a certain way, or make a certain grade, or perform a certain task, or have a certain ability or achievement. Claiming this new identity simply required my humility to understand I am a broken and needy sinner and I need a Savior, and to receive the gift God offers through Jesus Christ.

I am ordinary. But I serve an extraordinary God. So I will embrace my ordinariness, and allow the extraordinariness of God to define my life. Because when I recognize who I am, the reality that the God of the universe loves me so much He became ordinary for a time so He could rescue me and make me new, is even more mind-blowing. I am nothing special, but my God sees me as someone worthy of His very life. He loved this average girl so much that He came and died for her. And that makes my God extraordinary. And when you are enveloped in His love, and He calls you His daughter, you become an extraordinary reflection of His love.

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When I Call on Jesus – Nicole C. Mullen

 

 

 

Good Days, Bad Days

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Some days are harder than others, some are chocked full of joy and pleasure, days when a vacation is far from one’s mind. Then there are some days that are down right difficult, from one hard thing to another, the stuff weariness and depletion are made of. Most days are a mixture. Glimpses of both joy and hardship, the mundane and exciting all rolled together, the determination at the end of it all a good or bad day contingent on which of those was the majority.

Recently I had one of those days when at the end of it all I could not determine which of those it was. It began later than it should’ve as I had a restless and sleepless night before, sleep that was tainted with weird dreams not nightmarish but not exactly fun. The kinds of dreams when one awakens one finds herself groping for reality and a sense of “did that really happen?” As I stumbled to the breakfast table, waking Martins along my way, we congregated at the breakfast table.

A weekend of BLAST fun, lack of sleep and routine was catching up. The youngest Martin fresh off a “bad weekend” where at one point she reminded me of someone who had been on a bender still reflected in her dark brown eyes. We were a sight to behold, a group of weary souls seated around our hand-me-down kitchen table.

“Find a verse or scripture and tell me about it.”

I knew, I know that soul refreshment and strength for the weary could be found in the King’s word. We all needed to hear it as much as I needed them to say it. Ragged Bibles spread open amongst cereals and milk, bananas, frozen and rewarmed egg rolls, quick warmed biscuits with homemade jam, leftover pizza and a cup of coffee in a chipped Jesus mug.

The verses chosen were as diverse as the breakfasts.

A verse in the beginning and how it was good, light brought forth from darkness and how we are light, reminders that The King is a strong tower and shelters His own, a comfort and very present help in times of trouble. A memo to the Martin 5 who don’t know what to do but our eyes are on you, a reminder that the battle isn’t ours but His. We adjourned our impromptu meeting and headed to quickly get dressed and brush new braces and orthodontia appliances, put on deodorants and be ready in 10 minutes as now we were late.

We kissed Daddy goodbye, headed to the car and began our trip to doctors, errands, and art. We played “The compliment game” at the youngest’s insistence. She was finally beginning to come around and I gave in to her characteristic pleas; they were a welcome return. We traversed roads and I was glad to see a recliner sitting in the median of 280 because I honestly thought I’d lost my mind last week when I was the only one who had seen it when we’d whizzed by it.

We stopped by a favorite library for “just a minute” and checked out an anticipated movie sequel. We made it to art just in time and by the time I put my tired ol’ mini van in park I was so glad to not be in motion and for an hour to not have to think.

I relinquished the Martins to a favorite art class and for a moment I was still. Within an hour we were back at it again, headed to the pharmacy and back home before dark. flatfoot-76564_1280.jpgWhen the tire blew out I simply stated the obvious and the drive to a safe spot was a difficult one.

I delegated tasks, thrust the van manual in the direction of the panicked one and said, “Sit. Read this and tell me what to do.” The panicked one had no way of knowing this wasn’t my first rodeo and I knew what to do. The outnumbered male went to work, as if it were a second nature to jacking and loosening and changing.

“I’ve got this mom.” I marveled at how literal moments before he’d “Bob Rossed” his artwork and now he was changing a tire. I knelt and helped and reminded and encouraged. When the spare was put on we were pleased with our work, but once was the van was down we were as deflated as it was. A flat spare. I almost cried. It was getting darker; the day nearly caught up with me.

About the time I almost lost it, Fred, who works at Valspar, who wore a yellow shirt, offered to help inflate the flat spare tire. I wanted to say to Fred, the obvious, that the youngest had been struggling for days and so had her Mama and Daddy, the middle was on the Autism spectrum and that wasn’t all black grease in his hands, some of it was paint. I wanted to shout that the oldest beautiful soul may be quiet but I could tell by the look on her face she was churning inside. I wanted to scream that the doctor’s office doesn’t call you anymore when your lab results are sketchy, they send you a text and tell you to follow-up in a few months instead of a year and end their text with their perceived rhetoric of healthy living, diet and exercise, use of sunscreen and cheery call if you have questions closing.

I looked at Fred, and all I could say was, “Thank you.” Soon he returned with a good as new spare, his yellow shirt smudged and stained with black. I thanked him again and he told us to be careful. Daddy was now on his way and as the night sky began to show itself we continued on our way. When we arrived home I discovered the frozen dinner I had planned to cook was still frozen and cold; Scott Martin had hesitated to break the bad news to me. As I cooked an alternate dinner and we congregated back at the kitchen table. We thanked the King for supper, protection and healing. We asked for provision and continued as aforementioned. Everyone complimented the chef on her preparation of fish-sticks and potatoes from a box. Her instant pudding dessert was “so good can we eat it for breakfast tomorrow?!”

Some days are hard, others are harder, but there is One who is true, who sends glimpses of Grace and confirmation in the midst of the chaos, reminders that He who begins a good work will bring it to completion and that He is at work even if I don’t think He is.

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My Story, His Glory

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by Guest author Hope Hill (Re-printed with permission.)

A little over 3 weeks ago I noticed a gray cloud forming and moving across my left eye. One thing you need to know about me is that I am not a person who runs to the worst case scenario. I don’t go to the doctor on a regular basis (sorry mom). But all of that is because aside from the occasional cold or filling I have never been really sick. The blessing of health for someone like me is often overlooked and not appreciated until something happens. So I did what you are not supposed to do….I googled it. And all of my worst fears came true. I was reading about retinal detachment, permanent blindness and other eye-threatening issues when fear started to rush over me.  I noticed that I was fitting nicely into all of the right categories for a major eye problem.

The next day I phoned my optometrist to schedule an emergency appointment because a wise man once told me to never wait if there is an eye problem. As I walked in I started to explain my issue to the doctor. She took some tests, and I waited. I then waited a little longer. And even longer. Until finally the doctor came in and touched my shoulder. Uh-oh – this isn’t starting out great. She proceeded to tell me that it looked like a retinal detachment but I would have to see a specialist to determine the intensity of the issue. My worst fear in this situation came true. I was going to have to have emergency eye surgery that day. WebMD – 1   Hope – 0

Then came the tears. A bunch of tears. After 3 more hours of seeing different doctors to figure out just what kind of surgery was awaiting me, it was time. I was having a full-blown Vitrectomy. I will spare you the details of the surgery because that is definitely not the point of the story and super gross. What is important to know right now is that I have a gas bubble implanted in my eye. For 10 days I had to keep my nose pointed to the ground and sleep on my right side, so that gravity will use that bubble to hold my retina in place. If you do not do this properly the gas bubble can damage your eye and could cause blindness.

The medical term for my state (looking down) is called posturing. The word posturing suddenly captured my attention. I knew I had read it in the Bible, but I just couldn’t remember where. So two weeks later when I was allowed to sit up, I began my research of the word “posturing”.  I found many Biblical references to the posture of prayer. Abraham fell upon his face before God. (See Genesis 17:3, 17.) Moses prayed with his hands outstretched. (See Exodus 9:27–29.) King Solomon knelt in prayer. (See I Kings 8:54.) Jesus prayed looking up into heaven. (See Mark 6:41, John 11:41, and 17:1.)

Communication with God does not require a certain physical position, but postures do give expression to the attitudes of our hearts. Wow! What has the attitude of my heart been? Well, I didn’t know the answer to that question right away so I decided to sit in silence, face down, for one hour to hear from God. ONE HOUR, PEOPLE! First of all it is hard for a busy body like myself to be confined to the house, facing down, listening to podcasts. But now the Holy Spirit wants me to be quiet for one hour.

After many mental lists were made (ladies know what I mean) I began to really be still. As I began to listen a thought popped in my head to read the story about Jesus visiting with Mary and Martha. So I scrambled to my Bible app to read the story.

As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to what he taught. But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.” But the Lord said to her, “My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42

Woah. I am a Martha. As a ministry assistant my entire time is spent running around preparing for events, meetings, etc. And even though all of those things are great and needed, I can’t let the preparation distract me from sitting at His feet. So is it a coincidence that I had a surgery that forces me to posture myself? Is it a coincidence that I am unable to be at work, events, and meetings? No, God is not a coincidence. Romans 8:28 tells us that God works all things together. It is important for us to sit at His feet each day and get a fresh word from Him. God sees and knows what we are going through. He wants to remind us that in whatever situation, He is there, and He wants to be exalted. Every impossible situation is a perfect opportunity for Him to display His power and magnify Himself.

All of this sounds really good when you are not blind in one eye. Even though I heard that awesome Word from the Lord, I was still upset that I had to go through this process. Not because I think I am above it, but because I know He is bigger than it. I wanted God to heal me before the surgery, take away the pain and discomfort and show up big in the situation. But it was at that moment I failed to understand that the greatest expression of our mission can be born out of the deepest pain. It’s the same way that a crucifixion was necessary to bring eternal hope – to transform sin and death into life and liberty. The same way this trial was necessary to transform my life and my ministry. My question to you is what has been your blindness, your darkest hour? Have you allowed God to transform it into the victory and the calling that He intends for you?

I encourage you not to waste a single heartache but to seek for God’s plan in the middle of it. He doesn’t let us suffer needlessly. And your suffering may be the catalyst to what is next!

“For we live by faith, not by sight.” 2 Corinthians 5:7

Hope Hill – https://hopehill828.wordpress.com

God Gave Me Back My Daddy: A Story of Healing and Hope

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Editor’s note: As Father’s Day approaches we share this story of restoration to offer hope. Jesus changes things, even when it seems impossible to the human mind.

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And I will restore or replace for you the years that the locust has eaten. Joel 2:25a 

In my childhood, all I remember about my Daddy is him leaving for work. He was a bread delivery man. He left between 3 and 4 a.m. and got home around 8 p.m. On his off day he worked in his Father’s produce company. On Sunday he usually got a call from someone to bring bread because they had run out. He worked very hard to provide for our family; I am so grateful for that. It taught me to work hard. But, I missed out on getting to know my Father.

Daddy was an athlete in high school, so I wanted to be an athlete to get his approval. I wasn’t athletic, at least not until high school. I started playing softball in the fifth grade, Daddy never saw me play until I was married and had my own children. We never got to share that experience.

Daddy wasn’t an affectionate person while I was growing up. He didn’t say “I love you,” even though he did. He didn’t hug us. I began, sometime in childhood to believe he didn’t love me. This thought grew and festered until it became an unshakable belief. I did not believe my Daddy loved me until one day in college.

My mother and father were separated at the time. We were having issues with our septic tank, it was leaking in the yard. I called Daddy and told him to come look at it. I remember being very angry at him, even though he had done nothing wrong. This anger sprang from a bitter root I had against him. I began telling him all he needed to do; my words were harsh and critical. I made it clear, I didn’t much like him! Then it happened, tears began to roll down his face. I was shocked. I had never seen him cry, ever! I really believed he wasn’t capable of showing emotion. Then he said something that forever changed our lives. “Angelia, I love you. I need you to love me.” He loved me!? Until that moment I could not believe that. God broke through my hard heart and softened it toward him. I knew things would never be the same.

img_7186Sometime later Daddy came back home for a while. I began nursing school. I was still learning to trust him, and was on very uncertain ground. Just before I graduated, one morning I was leaving for the hospital. Taped to the doorknob on the front door, was a note. It was from Daddy, it said, I am so proud of how hard you have worked in school. You set your mind on a goal, and you have accomplished it. This will bring success in your life. I love you, Daddy. I still have that little note, tucked away in a drawer in my jewelry box, it is a treasure to me!

Not long after, I married and moved away. Our relationship never had time to grow. I remember coming home to visit, as I would leave, Daddy would be standing at the top of the hill crying. I cried too, would I ever know him?

Then tragedy struck. Daddy had to have open heart surgery. After surgery, he suffered a stroke. He was weak on one side and could not talk; his short-term memory was gone. He and my mother had divorced by this time. He was alone. He had no one to care for him. He came to live with us. His speech began to come back, and he began to get better. But he was different. We spent every day together, we would take walks to build his strength, and we would talk and talk. At night, as I helped him get ready for bed, he would hug me, and say I love you. He would thank me for taking care of him. I would go to bed and tell my husband this is so strange, but so good! Our relationship began to bud and blossom. A few months later he went home.

Daddy had met a sweet lady, and one day I got a call from him saying, “Guess what I’m doing?” I had no idea.

“I’m singing in a choir!”

“What, you can sing?!”

They had joined a choir of senior citizens; he loved it. Then someone invited them to visit their church. They began attending, regularly, every time the doors opened. God began a work in him, something I had been praying for years. Occasionally he would mention to me he wasn’t sure of his salvation; when I questioned him, he would change the subject.

Five years ago tragedy struck again, his precious wife, Julia, died. The light of Daddy’s life was gone. He was lost, depressed and lonely. He was unable to care for himself at this time. He wanted to stay in his home, so we hired a nurse for a year. Then the money ran out. So I began going to his house to clean, fix his meds, and spend time with him. We began a routine of me coming and having dinner together. He has been hospitalized several times and God has protected him in miraculous ways. I began to really know my Daddy. He is funny, loves to tell jokes, (I’ve heard them all!) loves to talk, loves history, and his family. He has so many stories to tell about his family, and I love hearing them.

Two years ago, after mentioning again his doubts about his salvation, we sat down and went through the Bible. That night with angels circling around us, Daddy settled this once and for all! What a blessing to be there with him and share that moment. He has never mentioned it again.

We have come to a place of complete healing and restoration in our relationship. Through a series of events, ordained by God, I was given back my lost years with my father. Some might have seen this as an inconvenience, but I saw it as a divine appointment.

The Daddy I never knew, the Daddy I thought didn’t love me, loves me deeply.

Yes, God restored what the locust had eaten. He gave me a gift, wrapped in tragedy, to bring me something I could never have imagined. I don’t regret one single minute, and never will!

And I and my Daddy, will spend eternity in heaven!

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Here Comes the Bride!

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The chapel is booked. The perfect dress has been purchased. Fresh flowers have been ordered. The cake design is set. Decorations are ready to be hung and set out. Yummy delicacies to share with guests are ordered. All is prepared for the wedding.

Throughout the waiting time the bride has shed a few stress-induced tears. Each time her comment is the same: “I don’t want to have to worry about all this, I just want to be married to the one I love!”

Her eye is only for her Beloved! He holds her focus. The rest of the world fades away when he speaks. She longs for the day that she will be his forever.

Going through this wedding preparation makes me think deeply about being the Bride of Christ.

Do I look longingly and lovingly for the day I, along with the entire church on this Earth, become the Bride of Christ?

Do I think of my love all day and anticipate what would make him happy?

Do I adorn myself and prepare myself to be the best possible person for my Jesus?

Do I sit with Him hanging on His every word and sharing my heart with My Love?

Do I spend the resources, take the time, and throw all my energy into planning my life with my Beloved Jesus?

Do  I long for time to be with Him as a bride-to-be longs for her fiancé?

It’s very easy for us to say we love Christ. It’s very easy to enjoy saying we are His fiancé. But we would think it very peculiar if a young lady never spent time with her fiance or never prepared herself for her wedding. Perhaps we should examine our heart and consider our engagement with our heavenly Bridegroom.

The Kingdom of Heaven can be illustrated by the story of ten bridesmaids who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. But only five of them were wise enough to fill their lamps with oil, while the other five were foolish and forgot. So, when the bridegroom was delayed, they lay down to rest until midnight, when they were roused by the shout, ‘The bridegroom is coming! Come out and welcome him!’ All the girls jumped up and trimmed their lamps. Then the five who hadn’t any oil begged the others to share with them, for their lamps were going out. “But the others replied, ‘We haven’t enough. Go instead to the shops and buy some for yourselves.’ But while they were gone, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was locked. Matthew 25:1-10 TLB

Grab His love letter to you and read it until your heart is full! Listen to His words of love to you. Pour out your heart to Him. Sit and rest in the embrace of the Lover of Your soul.

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God Doesn’t Make Junk – Only Masterpieces!

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Have you ever seen a masterpiece in person?

One of the things on my bucket list is to go to Italy a see some of the great masterpieces done by Michelangelo and Leonard da Vinci (the Sistine Chapel Ceiling, the sculpture of David and The Last Supper just to name a few).

Grant_DeVolson_Wood_-_American_GothicA few years ago, some friends and I went to Chicago for a few days. One of the things I wanted to do was to visit the Art Institute of Chicago to see the famous painting by Grant Wood titled “American Gothic.” Unlike our own Birmingham Museum of Art, which has free admission, the cost to enter the Art Institute of Chicago is $25.00, unless you are viewing a special exhibition. My thinking was that it would be worth it. We were going to be seeing a famous piece of art. So we made our way through the museum to the place where the picture was to be displayed. When we arrived, there on the wall was a picture of the famous painting and a sign with the words, “This piece has been loaned out.” I had missed seeing what some consider to be a great masterpiece.

So what makes something a masterpiece? Merriam-Webster defines a masterpiece as “a work done with extraordinary skill; especially: a supreme intellectual or artistic achievement.” A masterpiece doesn’t have to be a piece of art, it can be anything done with extraordinary skill. Ephesians 2:10 (NLT) says, “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” Some Bible versions use the word handiwork or workmanship. Each one is saying the same thing. We are God’s work of art. He created and is continuing to create us in His image.

Psalm 139 tells us that God knows every single thing about us, and nothing was or is hidden from him. God doesn’t make mistakes and He doesn’t make junk. You are God’s piece of art. We don’t view or value ourselves as masterpieces that have worth. In today’s world we are so quick to compare ourselves to other around us. We focus on the negative in our lives. Don’t view yourself through the eyes or standards of others, see yourself as God’s treasure.

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We may make our lives messy at times because of our sin, but as believers, God’s word tells us he is creating us anew. God has a specific plan for us and we have to let him keep working on us. Isaiah 64:8 says “God is the potter and we are the clay. We are formed by His hand.” We have to let God continue molding us and shaping us and putting us through the fire. It is not an easy process. It takes time. It can even be painful at times. We have to be willing to let Him work. In the end, God will create and mold us into a beautiful piece of art that will display Jesus to others.

One of my favorite skits done by the Skit Guys is called “God’s Chisel” or “God’s Chisel Remastered.” It tells of God chiseling away at the sin in our lives so that when others see us they see Jesus, and when we see ourselves in the mirror we see Jesus. God is creating us into His masterpiece. He is working on us and chiseling out the sin, worry, ugly attitudes, and anything holding us back from being all God wants us to be. So why don’t we let Him work and not fight him. I think some of the reasons are fear, guilt, anger, bitterness, and laziness.

Today, why don’t you turn loose of the ugly sin and let God work on you. When you stand in front of the mirror don’t be disappointed. Don’t plaster a picture or image up of what you want to look and be like and loan yourself out to Satan to beat you down and conform you to this world. Instead, see yourself as the Masterpiece God created you to be. Be open to him chiseling and molding you into His image. Start by letting Him renew your mind into what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God (Romans 12:2) for your life.

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The Journey: Ride the Tuk Tuk

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(Republished with permission from Tender Tugs.)

When people ask me about Cambodia, I have trouble putting my experience into words. (Partly because I still felt jet lagged the first few days people asked and partly because I just wanted to burst into tears from emotional overload.) I was in Cambodia for only ten days, but it left an indelible mark on me. We were in the capital of Phenom Penh for eight days and in a smaller village called Siem Reap for two days. Throughout the trip, we worked with an organization called Hard Places Community that serves the Khmer people with a goal of keeping children and adults out of the sex trade and redeeming their brokenness through Christ’s Gospel.

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When I think of Cambodia, I think of the people. People make such an imprint on our lives. The Khmer people of Cambodia are no different. Many of them have no reason to trust others (especially outsiders and foreigners), yet they still open their arms to embrace visitors. Below, I will try to tell the stories. The stories of people who are desperate for Light. The stories that make me want to cry (with happiness?) whenever I think of Cambodia. The stories that show what the Hope of God can do in such a dark place.

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There was a boy around 10 years old with a black t-shirt with the letters “Ok” printed in large white font. The first day, he came to the Hard Places Community center to hear our lesson. (We did mini Vacation Bible School type lessons with kids age 1 to 14.) The second day, we saw him again at the Riverfront. (We went out in the neighborhood in the afternoons to act out biblical stories while dressed in fun costumes.) The boy was wearing the same t-shirt. One of our translators told me that his mom and dad had both died. Now, he lives by the side of the river and relies on the community to keep him alive. Boys like this are very susceptible to the kind of evils that Phenom Penh sees everyday. Evils like being lured down dark alleyways by foreign men who offer money in exchange for sexual favors. Thankfully, this boy has the Hard Places center to offer him food, training in what is right and wrong, and the truth of the Good News. While we were there, he had a large scratch on his leg. On our team, we had a trained nurse Taylor who bandaged his leg. However, many of the kids Taylor treated did not know anything about medical care and ripped off their bandages minutes after she careful cleaned and treated their wounds. But the tiny hope I saw in this boy’s life was that he kept the bandage on just like Taylor instructed him. I saw a flicker of hope that he was listening to us and that God’s truth would stay with him just as much as the medical advice. Maybe by next year, this Hope will grow into a healthy leg and eyes that are no longer filled with sadness.

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Another person that I cannot forget is an older lady that I met by accident. One day, I went with Sineath (one of our translators) to invite children to our meeting. We walked past the doorway of a house and a lady called out to us from the shadows. She began speaking rapidly in Khmer to Sineath. Sineath explained to us that the lady wanted us to come inside and pray for her. We respectfully took off our sandals and entered her corrugated tin house. We sat cross legged on the slightly raised floor next to her sleeping pig. Through back and forth translation, the lady told us that she had a dream the night before. In the dream, she saw Sineath come to her door to pray for her. So when we came, she knew it was to pray for her. This lady had recently undergone surgery to remove a tumor, but she felt that part of the tumor was not removed and was still growing. Sadly, this lady had no money left after her original surgery to pay for another consultation. With teary eyes, we prayed for her. I felt very strongly that although her situation was miserable, God was using it to bring her back to Himself. She even admitted to us that she used to believe in God, but lately she had wandered away from Him. I can’t help but believe that this physical illness will bring spiritual healing to her otherwise cancerous heart. There was Hope for her that God was bringing her back to Him spiritually and that He can heal her physically too.

There were so many other people. Men, women, and children. Some broken and some restored. All of them were in need of the Gospel. All of them are like us: covered in the darkness of our sin until we agree to let in the Light of Christ’s truth.

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In my jumble of stories, I want to leave you with a metaphor:

As we rode through the cities of Phenom Penh and Siem Reap, we always traveled in tuk tuks. Man, I really miss those bumpy, scent-filled rides. Sometimes we had to hold on to handles on the side of roof so that we would not get jostled out the side of the cart. Sometimes we had loads of medical supplies, snacks, and crafts to take to eager children. Sometimes we knew where we were going, and other times even our drivers seemed lost. Sometimes we filled our nostrils with the smells of fresh flowers or savory noodles, and other times we shriveled our nose to block out the stench of open sewage or piles of rotting garbage. But we always, always rode in tuk tuks for one reason: to meet people.

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So whether you are in Mississippi or the great world beyond, I leave you this challenge. Ride the tuk tuk. This tuk tuk is going to take you on a mission for God. There are no doors, and it might get bumpy, so hold on tight. You might have loads of baggage or things to take to others. You might know where you are going or be more lost than unmarked baggage at the airport carousel. The place you are going towards may seem inviting or nauseating. Just remember: you are going to meet the people. No matter what the ride is like, stay in the tuk tuk. Trust your Driver. Let God lead you to whom you need to be with at just the right moment.

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Believe me, this is not something I have grasped. I have called my mom crying more than once since I got home (three times in one day). I have desperately wanted to get off the tuk tuk. I wanted a clearer map, more supplies for the journey, and more appealing smells on the way. I have simultaneously wanted to stop and to get there faster. I haven’t figured out what God is doing. But for now, I am still holding on to the handles. I know this will eventually take me to meet people. It will take me to the people I need to minister to and the people who will minister to me. So, if you see me trying to jump off the side, give me an encouraging yell. Together, let’s ride this tuk tuk until it stops.

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[Side note: I cannot share any of the pictures online of the people to whom we ministered. This is for their privacy and protection.]

Sweet Speech

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My traveling companions were weary, I was weary. The plane was packed with weary travelers. There were 30 rows, 6 across. I am not a mathematical genius but last I checked that meant there were at least 180 passengers on that jam-packed airliner from the cozy airport in Colorado to the big Dallas one we had been diverted to. I was in the middle seat closest to the lavatory and the airplane kitchenette. I could clearly hear the airline attendants conversation as we were in flight and then later as preparations were made for landing.

They had been cheerful, willingly handing out sodas, pretzels and such. In my mind I was already mapping out the next step, we had been delayed at the Cozy airport, a canceled flight to be exact. The experienced Traveler in our caravan had declared that an outright canceled flight was not an experience she could recall. Yet there we were, essentially stranded but knowing that the King had His hand on us. We had dedicated our trip to Him, in fact it was His business that had taken the four of us Gardendale area girls across the country to the Shadow of Pikes Peak. For several days we had trained together, cried together, eaten together, taken pictures, and most importantly prayed together. In the final moments of that unplanned flight into Dallas though, those memories and thoughts were in the far corners of my mind. Getting to the gate labeled Birmingham, was my priority. As I listened to the sounds in the kitchenette, I had already determined who was in charge that night, which of those ladies who had served us pretzels and demonstrated how to buckle seat belts and place oxygen masks on “in the event of an emergency.” Each had been tasked with a job and I could discern who was who among that flight crew.

aircraft-2104594_1280I had likened this crew of ladies to teams I had worked with in the past, the experienced and usually in charge one, the funny one, the chatty one, the one who missed her baby and was more than ready to be home, the just-there-because-she-had-to-be one. They were a familiar lot, although I had never actually met them until just a few hours before.

The Baby-misser had spent much of the short flight in the kitchenette talking about child care options. I sympathized. I had been there, I recollected a time when I worked the night shift, dropped my littles off at Mother’s Day Out, and while other mamas were grocery shopping and doing the things out for which Mother’s Day Out was intended, I made my way to my minivan parked beneath a shade tree, where I proceeded to crawl into the back and sleep for a few hours until the appointed pickup time. Those days were hard, a different kind of hard than the current days. Those days when my littles were little were physically exhausting. Days when a trip to the Big Box Store never meant leaving without diapers and wipes. Now the trips to Big Box store yield no more diapers but more in the way of copious amounts of foodstuffs and costly plug-in things. I find in comparison the days of late are emotionally exhausting more than physically. My teenage children sleep and sleep, something my Littles rarely did.

I was pulled back into reality as the Leader echoed words of sympathy and exhorted the Baby-Misser to press on. She offered a few words of sage advice and was interrupted by the Funny one hanging up the special phone and giving a hearty “Hmmph.” I listened between closing compartments and announcements of time and temperature awaiting us in Dallas and then the leader made the statement of the day.

“Sugar Up Girls. That plane is not getting in. It’s been delayed.”

Groans of frustration from the kitchenette. I surmised her years of experience had taught her that the cliché that “more flies can be caught with honey versus vinegar” must have proven to be true. As the leader of the pack she was telling her girls, that they were about to meet a lot of grumpy flies and it just might prove beneficial to be sweet rather than sour.

I giggled as she said that and My companion to my left looked at me with her large dark, expressive eyes (sometimes she reminds me of a Margaret Keane painting) and smiled. Clearly my jovial manner was puzzling. I wondered what the King’s word had to say about the matter. As my friend and I buckled and prepared for landing I made a note about the Sugared Up Flight Attendants and carried on with the awaiting journey ahead.

Sometime later as I was recalling that night, I searched the King’s Word and found in Proverbs the following:

Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24 

The Experienced and In Charge One had been right all along. I wonder how many times my speech had been like sour vinegar, my words more hurtful than helpful. Multiple I reckon. How many times should I or could I have “sugared up” before I spoke? Too many to count. May I be challenged to “Sugar Up” more often and my speech be like sweetness and healing to the body.

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Don’t Forget to Wonder

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Many, LORD my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare. Psalm 40:5

“A child kicks its legs rhythmically through excess, not absence, of life. Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, Do it again; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough… It is possible that God says every morning, Do it again, to the sun; and every evening, Do it again, to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike: it may be that God makes every daisy separately but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” –G. K. Chesterton

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My daughter has a friend who screams with excitement every time she walks across campus on moonlit nights. Every single time she spies the moon she exclaims, “Can you BELIEVE how beautiful the moon is? Look at how perfect it is and how perfectly it shines. Wow! It’s gorgeous.” Her friends lovingly poked fun at her, but it never seems to lessen her awe of creation, or of the Creator. She has learned the priceless lesson of maintaining her sense of wonder.

As a child I was unendingly fascinated by the world around me. I took time to study the flowers, comparing the fragile petals of a daffodil with the hearty petals of a magnolia block-blow-blur-279453bloom. I spent hours discovering how to blow all the “fuzz” off a dandelion in one breath. I lay in my yard with friends and watched the clouds meander by in all their uniqueness. I gloried in the smell of fresh-cut grass and honeysuckles. I would spend days studying the construction of a leaf or watching a grasshopper making his way around my sidewalk. I had no worries about this activity or that meeting. The only agenda I had was to watch a bird fly.

But somewhere along the way, as Chesterton said, “I have sinned and grown old.”  I got lost in my own head, in my own life, in deadlines and agendas and expectations. I got busy. And as my life gets overfilled, I get distracted and lose my focus. I forget Paul’s words in Colossians 3:2 “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” When I get overcome with myself, when I’m honed in on the minutiae of my “to do” list, I become easily angered when plans get derailed, I covet those who seem to have time to relax, my patience wears thin and I forget. I get so busy looking ahead to the next task, I forget to take time to look around at those beautiful gifts right in front of me.

Yet God, being rich in mercy, brought me back to wonder.

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I’ve had a character building year. The Lord has entrusted me with a new job that required much more than I know I’m capable of; lots of responsibility, leading, administrating, organizing. I confess I got bogged down in the non-essentials. I found myself knee-deep in schedules and agendas and budgets and “to do” lists and trying to make sure everyone’s needs were met. Like Martha, I got bogged down in the “many things” and forgot there’s really only One thing necessary.

One afternoon in early spring, a normal, busy afternoon, I found myself sitting at my kitchen table typing up a lecture. I was focused on my computer screen, intensely pondering what needed to be done, and the Lord whispered, “Look up.” So I did. There bird-3349832_1280on my back porch staring at me through the window was a cardinal. A beautiful red cardinal with a bright orange beak framed by a black mask. He hopped around blissfully on my porch, enjoying the sunlight and the gentle wind. For a long while, we stared at one another. And the King whispered, “Michele, consider the birds. They don’t worry or toil about the details, and I meet their every need. Seek me first. I’ll take care of everything else.”

I stopped what I was doing and stepped outside. I took a deep breath and smelled the earth and the hint of flowers emerging. I felt the wind gently glide across my face, brushing my hair, tickling my ears. I watched the leaves sway on the giant oak that keeps my home shaded and cool in the heat of summer. I stood in the sunbeams that weave their way to and fro on my porch. I looked up at the deep blue sky and caught a glimpse of a cloud in the shape of a rabbit hopping across the tops of the trees. And I remembered the One who fashioned this beauty, this intricate web of creation, if He can design the moon and stars and sun and clouds, He can certainly give me all that I need—and even more.

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As I stood on my porch, in awe of my Abba’s intentionality, I realized that wonder, true wonder, can only lead to one thing: Gratitude. And a grateful heart is a heart anchored in freedom. The freedom that can only come by knowing the One who is true. When I wonder at the grace that saved a wretch like me, I can’t help but praise Him.

So if you, like me, find yourself bogged down in the quicksand of the non-essentials. Take a step outside and take a good look around. Let a roly-poly crawl up your arm. Watch a blue bird soar effortlessly through the sky. Lay on the grass and look up. Think about the One who made heaven and earth and remember, He is the One who rescued your soul. Keep that fierce and free spirit of a child and stand in wonder.

 

The Unending Journey

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“Are we there yet?” – the whine of any child who has ever been on a car trip.

While adults may not whine about it, we’ve all experienced that feeling of the never-ending trip. Will we ever arrive? When we left home we didn’t realize it would take this long, nor have this many twists and turns.

volkswagen-569315_1280.jpgOur journey with God is a lot like a road trip. As we pull away from our old home to journey forward with God, we often believe it will be a short trip too. He’s going to do a quick remake of our life and we’ll have a happily ever after. But as days become weeks and years we realize it is a slow and constant process – this life is the never-ending journey. We will never arrive as long as we live.

How many times in our journey with Him do we come through a trial and pruning with the unspoken feeling that God must be through remaking us into His image because we can’t imagine what else He could possibly prune out of our life? We feel as if we are an onion that has been peeled to its very core.

In a short amount of time, however, we sense another layer of our “old man” being peeled away.

The day we set out to follow Christ, whether we were 8 or 38, we began a journey that will never end. He will chisel off the rough places, sand out the flaws, shape up the imperfections, and patch the holes until the day we die. That’s what regeneration and restoration are all about. It’s an ongoing process of remaking us into His image.

God’s got a grand adventure planned. God’s attitude toward us is not slap-on-a-new-coat-of-paint-and-send-her-on-her-merry-way. His mindset is apparent in Genesis 12:1 (MSG) “God told Abram: “Leave your country, your family, and your father’s home for a land that I will show you.” He had in mind to take Abram to new places, unknown places, places of adventure and scariness I’m sure. Places that caused Abram to grow a faith that was later credited to him as righteousness!

The destination and the route we take is in God’s hands. As He did with Abraham, God does with us. He calls us to go to a land He will show us – an unknown destination. We don’t know where the road may take us or what may happen along the way. We imagine there will be joys at the right hand of God. We fear that he will take us somewhere we don’t want to go. But do we realize that He will be beside us every step of the way?

accident-car-communication-2224He doesn’t send us off on the journey alone. The last phrase of verse 1 is the icing on the cake – “for a land that I will show you!” Girls, he’s not sending us away on a journey all by ourselves. He’s going with us! The only way my husband can show me the way on our road trip is to be in the car with me. That’s where our Father God is – in the seat beside us, taking us on this grand and sometimes scary adventure, trying to give us directions to this “land that I will show you” if only we’d listen to Him.

The journey is life-changing. We never stop to think of the inner impact the journey will make on our lives and the changes that will take place within us. As we journey with Christ, externally we may change our location, those who accompany us, or the job we do. But the greatest change is His molding of our inner man. He is transforming us into the image of Christ from the inside out. So I pray for you, and for myself, the words of Paul:

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being. Ephesians 3:16 

 

We weren’t created as statues. We were created as flesh and blood people that change from day-to-day, year-to-year, minute-by-minute, endlessly, until we pass from this earth.  The change, the re-making is intentional on God’s part. Scripture tells us:

Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. 2 Corinthians 5:17

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. Ephesians. 4:22-24

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12:2

Transformed. Made new. Renewed. That’s us.

On this never-ending journey of life with our Beloved, let’s embrace the word change. Let’s be pliable clay in His hands, willing to be mashed down, re-formed, made into something new! Even in the painful circumstances that try our faith, let us desire the touch of our Master Creator who isn’t finished with us yet.

The breaking and re-making. The new places on the journey and the hard places that tax us to our limits. These are part of the journey we signed up for. Let us be willing, not weary, travelers. Coming to know God and allowing Him to mature us in His ways is lifelong. We never arrive as long as we live. We are always “becoming” until the day we die. Becoming more faithful. Becoming more Christlike. Becoming more patient. Becoming more loving. Becoming more joyful, peace-filled, kind, gentle, self-controlled….

When we feel He’s shown us our deepest core, there are still other layers below. The journey is never over Girls! Enjoy the adventure of it all!

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