The other day I was in the mall and I saw a cute outfit. Suddenly I wanted it. I wanted it so strongly, I was taken aback by the raging, demanding lust that surfaced in myself. "It's just a cute outfit," I thought. "Where is all this coming from?"
Then last weekend I went to a wedding where I saw a bunch of my old friends. I was smitten afterward when I realized that I had expressed ungratefulness to just about every person I talked with. People would ask me where I was in life and what I was doing these days, and invariably, I would throw in some comment about how I was poor, or how I didn't really like my job, or life just wasn't going the way I wanted it to.
"Somehow, covetousness has really taken hold of me," I realized. "I want more money, a better job, nicer clothes...and I'm not content with what I have." So I repented before the Lord and asked His forgiveness.
Beyond that, there is a cure: Thanksgiving and praise.
Therefore, let me express my sincerest praise to God for all the undeserved blessings that He has bestowed upon me.
Lord, I praise You for this season of poverty. You have allowed me to go through it, and I accept it from your hand, knowing that You have ordained it for good. Besides, I am truly rich. In the first place, I am rich because I have You. You are my portion and my inheritance, and You alone are enough to satisfy the deepest desires of my heart. In the second place, I am fabulously wealthy compared to most of the world. I have a computer, a printer, a CD player, a sewing machine, a car, a closet full of clothes, shelves full of books, a room to myself, and innumerable comforts and luxuries that most people would only dream of having.
I praise you for the job you have given me. I thank you for the experiences I have been able to have through this work. I will be content with the paycheck you have provided for me, whether or not you ever open up the door for me to make more money. You, O Lord, are my provider, and it is You who gives me the power to earn money.
Thank you, Lord, for the unnamed person in my life who hurts me. Will you bless that person, Lord, with abundant grace and boundless mercy? Bestow them with patience, gentleness, and love. Let them walk in truth. Fill them with Your Holy Spirit and let them walk in Your light. I thank you for the very hurts themselves. What an unprecedented opportunity to learn forgiveness, to find Your grace sufficient even in the midst of pain, to overcome by faith and return good for evil. They have deepened my heart and made me more able to relate to others' pain.
I praise You, O my God, for the fact that I am waiting right now. Thank you for not moving ahead. Thank you for not being in a hurry. Thank you for keeping me sitting still, ever so deftly, ever so cleverly, even when I am trying to squirm away and make things happen for myself. Thank you for not letting my ways work out. Thank you for teaching me to wait upon the Lord, and letting me find that indeed I do renew my strength. Thank you for the patience that comes with it. Thank you for the very uncertainty that I face. I praise You that You do know exactly what way I should take.
Thank You, Lord, for being the sovereign God. It is all about You, not about me. I release my way to you. I don't have what I want anymore. It's all what You want. Keep me faithful to walk with you in Your will and in Your way.
In Jesus's Name, Amen
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Grateful for Matilda
I got so caught up in complaining about Matilda ("But it's SUCH an old lady car." "Ah! I get terrible gas mileage." Yeah, she's a beast all right...reminds me of behemoth." "Why, oh, why did I get a car with a V8 engine??") that I forgot to be grateful.
Then all at once, it hit me.
This is actually a really nice car! I like so many more things than I dislike. It has cruise control, power windows, leather interior, and a huge trunk. It rides so smooth and quiet, has air conditioning, and is really a very low mileage car for the price I paid. It's comfortable to sit in. It's spacious. I like everything about it except for one or two things--so why are those the only things I mention when I tell people about the car?
I decided then and there to ditch the complaints, put buyer's remorse behind me, and just enjoy this car. Of course I have already enjoyed HAVING a car, but not necessarily THIS car. Now I have resolved to enjoy this car with abandon. Okay, so it has one drawback. Well, so be it. I like it anyway. I am thankful for it. I see it as God's provision for me. I appreciate it. And I genuinely do think that I am pampered and got more than I expected in it.
Thank you, God.
Then all at once, it hit me.
This is actually a really nice car! I like so many more things than I dislike. It has cruise control, power windows, leather interior, and a huge trunk. It rides so smooth and quiet, has air conditioning, and is really a very low mileage car for the price I paid. It's comfortable to sit in. It's spacious. I like everything about it except for one or two things--so why are those the only things I mention when I tell people about the car?
I decided then and there to ditch the complaints, put buyer's remorse behind me, and just enjoy this car. Of course I have already enjoyed HAVING a car, but not necessarily THIS car. Now I have resolved to enjoy this car with abandon. Okay, so it has one drawback. Well, so be it. I like it anyway. I am thankful for it. I see it as God's provision for me. I appreciate it. And I genuinely do think that I am pampered and got more than I expected in it.
Thank you, God.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Matilda, Lesson #2
One of the thoughts that crossed my mind as I was going out to buy Matilda (my car) was, "Well, it's not like I'm marrying this car. If it doesn't work out, I can always sell it and get a different one."
After the buyer's remorse set in once I had bought the car, I reflected on that statement.
You see, God had assured me that He knew my needs and would provide a car for me in His time. Then I waited a year and 3 months. "Isn't it about time already, Lord?" I was beginning to wonder. I kept praying about it, asking, "Aren't you going to provide my car?" Finally, in prayer one day, God gave me the go-ahead. "See, I have provided a car for you." So I went out and looked. The night before I bought Matilda, I spent a good hour in prayer about it, and I had peace about buying the car. I was so overwhelmed with excitement that I could barely sleep. So the next day, I went out and bought it.
Yet excitement turned into buyer's remorse nevertheless, due to the discovery of how bad my gas mileage was. And I had bought it with the kind of determined attitude that said, "I don't care what anybody says, I don't even care if I look into whether this is a good deal; I'm getting this car."
I thought to myself, "How many girls get tired of waiting for God to bring the right mate into their life? How many girls thrust their chin out and say to themselves, 'I am getting a husband'? How many girls make a snap decision to plunge into marriage, and then regret it for the rest of their lives?"
God has assured her that He will provide her a husband in His time. The girl waits. A good deal of time goes by, and she says to herself, "Isn't it about time already, Lord?" Perhaps it is within her power to secure herself a guy. She does it, overcome with excitement and infatuation, and before she really looks closely into his character and habits, she marries him.
Quickly the happy, excited feeling fades away, and she is left with buyer's remorse...only in this transaction there is no backing out of it. No selling the car. No 30-day return policy. No saving your receipt to get store credit. No disputing the transaction with your credit card company. She is stuck.
I think of Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind. Out of spite, she just up and marries Charles in a snap decision. She doesn't really love him, but she can have him. He's not really right for her, but she can get him. Once they are married, she is bored to death with him. He dies a few months later and she is left a widow with an even more boring existence, because she is expected to wear black and mourn his death.
How sober and careful we must be in following God's direction regarding a life partner!
If I felt trapped and ripped off shortly after buying a cheap old car, how much more disillusioned I would be if I blindly leaped into a similar situation in marriage!
If I kicked myself for not being more careful and doing my research on a car that I will only have for a few years, how much more if it was the husband I would live with for the rest of my life!
If I felt a twinge of jealousy at how much better looking than mine all the other cars on the road were, how much more disastrous it would be to the relationship if I was married and then started "shopping around" for better-looking guys!
If I could make a bad decision when I got in a hurry to "help God out" in his provision of a car, how much more dangerous it would be to get in a hurry to "help" God find the man I was supposed to marry!
How much better it is to wait on God in perfect trust, confident that He can do everything I need, all on His own initiative. How essential prayer becomes, to connect me to God's eternal purposes and keep me on the right path.
I will certainly tread more carefully the next time I go out car shopping.
Let all those tread even more carefully who would venture to go "husband-shopping."
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Matilda
About a month ago, I bought my first car. Yay! I have wheels!
It is a 1996 Mercury Grand Marquis, quite the old lady car, so I named her Matilda.
Getting this car proved to hold an interesting lesson.
I had been wanting to buy a car for over a year, and I had been needing one for longer than that. I worked three jobs and scrimped and saved for over a year just to get $3000 together so that I could buy a cheap car. (Before that, the car I was driving was my dad's 1984 Mercedes with 380,000 miles on it. It finally gave up the ghost, and I was left borrowing other people's cars and walking or biking to work. Fortunately my job was only 3.5 miles away!)
God had assured me during this process, "I am your Father. I will provide a car for you. Don't worry about it. I will bring it to pass." And I had trusted in this assurance as well as I could.
I also felt very insecure about getting a car and didn't want to get ripped off, so I did a lot of research over the course of the year. My dad gave me some used car appraisal sheets that I could use to compare notes on different cars, and I started frequenting craigslist, autotrader, and edmunds.com. Every time I would go to look at a car, I would meticulously fill out one of my little sheets, go look up the VIN number online, and read reviews on it.
What I really wanted was an orange car. (What can I say? Orange is my favorite color.) I didn't really think it was asking that much. Say an orange, 4-door sedan, under 100,000 miles, good gas mileage, manual transmission. I would look on autotrader for those specifications, and NEVER would anything come up in my price range. Never. Not in the whole country. You can put in your zip code and then search within a certain radius of your home--well, I would say "any distance" from my zip code and still wouldn't get any results. Weird. Why are orange cars so uncommon, when they're the best color ever?
Then, one day in March, I saw a little Ford Escort station wagon in a used car lot along the highway. I pulled in and asked the lady the price. She initially said $3999, but if I paid cash, she said she could give it to me for $3200. That was a little higher than what I could pay, but hey, I thought, you can always barter these places down. I went home and looked it up online, came back with my little evaluation sheet, and wrote down all the specifications. It looked like it might have had a little fender bender once. There was dog hair all over all the seats. There was no power anything and no cruise control, but hey... that's what you get when you get a cheap car. I test drove the car and drove it to the bank, where I withdrew $3000 cash.
"I am getting this car," I said to myself with a stubborn thrust of my chin. "I don't care what's wrong with it. I'm just sick and tired of not having a car. I'm going to surprise my family and drive home in my own car today. Yeah. That's what I'm going to do."
I walked in to the office and started talking price with her. "Oh! Did I say $3200? Hmmmm. That was a mistake. The lowest I was really supposed to go is $3400," she said. "But--since I told you $3200, I guess I can give it to you for that." I couldn't talk her down. She didn't even care about selling the car to me. Before I was even done talking to her, she got on the phone and the conversation was over. I walked away with my cash still safe in its envelope.
That evening, however, I was on my way to a class I attend, and I happened to be a few minutes early. "I'm just going to pull into this other dealership," I thought. I drove around and looked at the cars and then a salesman walked up to me, so I got out of my car and walked around with him. He took me over near the Mercury when I told him my price range, and I barely even glanced at it. "No, that's an old lady car." I wasn't even willing to consider it. So he showed me some other cars, all the while treating me like a princess. We were back to my car and I was just about to leave when the boss stuck his head out the door of the building. "Did you say your price range was $3000?" he said. I said yes. "How about that Mercury?" he said. "We could give you the Mercury for $3000, taxes and fees included." I had forgotten which car the Mercury was by this point, because I really hadn't even given it a thought. We walked back over to it and when we got close, I realized, "Oh, it's this one." But the salesman was talking all about how nice it was, how it only had 85,000 miles on it, how it was owned by an old lady and garage kept all its life, how it was worth $6000 and they were going to let it go for $3 (hahahaha... worth $6000... riiiiiiight).
I was at a very dangerous moment. I was already taken over with that little chin-thrust attitude, "I am getting a car today." I was dazzled by the great paint job on the car. (It's blue, by the way.) Somehow, in a flash, I was sold on the car. I hadn't driven it, I hadn't filled out my little sheet, I hadn't even seen it from any angle other than from the driver's side back corner. The only problem was, I hadn't brought my money with me.
No problem, the dealer assured me. Come back tomorrow. We'll even pick you up.
Okay. deal.
They picked me up from work the next day and I handed over the money. I didn't end up getting it with the taxes and fees included, because the way they were going to do that was by lying on the title and putting down that I bought it for like $30, so that the taxes wouldn't be high, and I refused to go along with that, so I ended up having to pay the taxes too. But I didn't care. I was getting a car. (Now I think I could have negotiated that: Lower the price of the car or I'm walking out. But I didn't, and it's too late now. Live and learn.)
I drove the car home.
Parked it in the driveway.
Wow, this thing is a beast.
And I wonder how much gas this V8 engine is going use up?
I looked up the gas mileage. According to the cool little digital thingie in the dashboard of the car, the average MPG was 9.0. I calculated the cost of going to work and going to church at the current gas price (which was then $3.50).
Ahhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaaa! Ack! It was going to cost me $17 just to go to church!
It would cost me $3 just to go to work, a distance that I could walk. I'll be throwing a quarter and a dime out the window every single mile!
Suddenly I was wishing that life had an undo button. Oops! Ctrl + Z! Let's do that one over!
But other than selling the car for the price I paid for it (which I now doubted I could even do), there was no way to get out of this one.
Great. Now I was stuck with a gas hog, and I was never going to be able to afford to drive anywhere.
That night I wrote in my journal about my thoughts regarding it.
I thought I wanted a car, I reflected, but what I really wanted was freedom. Freedom to go on road trips. Freedom to be my own person, to go places without asking if someone needs the car, to do things I want to do without being hindered by lack of transportation to get there. I thought I was buying freedom for myself. Apparently, I wasn't. At least, it's going to cost me a lot more than I bargained for. Forget about road trips--I won't even be able to afford to go to church!
I didn't get the freedom I thought I was getting. But then I heard the sweet whisper of God's voice in my ear, and suddenly I knew why He had allowed me to get myself into this situation--just to teach me this one lesson.
True freedom is not found in roaming around geographically.
True freedom is found in Christ alone.
True freedom is not freedom from external restraints in my life (like lack of money or transportation).
True freedom is freedom from sin.
If I find my freedom in how many trips I get to take a year, I do not know the meaning of freedom.
If I find my freedom in being able to do things without asking anyone, I do not know the meaning of freedom.
I must find my freedom in Christ alone.
In Christ, I could be in a prison cell and still be free.
Apart from Christ, I could be a millionaire, driving the nicest hot rod in the country, and still be in bondage.
I am free--not because I have car keys, but because I have the living Christ reigning within my heart.
And this is more valuable than all the nice, efficient, orange cars in the world.
It is a 1996 Mercury Grand Marquis, quite the old lady car, so I named her Matilda.
Getting this car proved to hold an interesting lesson.
I had been wanting to buy a car for over a year, and I had been needing one for longer than that. I worked three jobs and scrimped and saved for over a year just to get $3000 together so that I could buy a cheap car. (Before that, the car I was driving was my dad's 1984 Mercedes with 380,000 miles on it. It finally gave up the ghost, and I was left borrowing other people's cars and walking or biking to work. Fortunately my job was only 3.5 miles away!)
God had assured me during this process, "I am your Father. I will provide a car for you. Don't worry about it. I will bring it to pass." And I had trusted in this assurance as well as I could.
I also felt very insecure about getting a car and didn't want to get ripped off, so I did a lot of research over the course of the year. My dad gave me some used car appraisal sheets that I could use to compare notes on different cars, and I started frequenting craigslist, autotrader, and edmunds.com. Every time I would go to look at a car, I would meticulously fill out one of my little sheets, go look up the VIN number online, and read reviews on it.
What I really wanted was an orange car. (What can I say? Orange is my favorite color.) I didn't really think it was asking that much. Say an orange, 4-door sedan, under 100,000 miles, good gas mileage, manual transmission. I would look on autotrader for those specifications, and NEVER would anything come up in my price range. Never. Not in the whole country. You can put in your zip code and then search within a certain radius of your home--well, I would say "any distance" from my zip code and still wouldn't get any results. Weird. Why are orange cars so uncommon, when they're the best color ever?
Then, one day in March, I saw a little Ford Escort station wagon in a used car lot along the highway. I pulled in and asked the lady the price. She initially said $3999, but if I paid cash, she said she could give it to me for $3200. That was a little higher than what I could pay, but hey, I thought, you can always barter these places down. I went home and looked it up online, came back with my little evaluation sheet, and wrote down all the specifications. It looked like it might have had a little fender bender once. There was dog hair all over all the seats. There was no power anything and no cruise control, but hey... that's what you get when you get a cheap car. I test drove the car and drove it to the bank, where I withdrew $3000 cash.
"I am getting this car," I said to myself with a stubborn thrust of my chin. "I don't care what's wrong with it. I'm just sick and tired of not having a car. I'm going to surprise my family and drive home in my own car today. Yeah. That's what I'm going to do."
I walked in to the office and started talking price with her. "Oh! Did I say $3200? Hmmmm. That was a mistake. The lowest I was really supposed to go is $3400," she said. "But--since I told you $3200, I guess I can give it to you for that." I couldn't talk her down. She didn't even care about selling the car to me. Before I was even done talking to her, she got on the phone and the conversation was over. I walked away with my cash still safe in its envelope.
That evening, however, I was on my way to a class I attend, and I happened to be a few minutes early. "I'm just going to pull into this other dealership," I thought. I drove around and looked at the cars and then a salesman walked up to me, so I got out of my car and walked around with him. He took me over near the Mercury when I told him my price range, and I barely even glanced at it. "No, that's an old lady car." I wasn't even willing to consider it. So he showed me some other cars, all the while treating me like a princess. We were back to my car and I was just about to leave when the boss stuck his head out the door of the building. "Did you say your price range was $3000?" he said. I said yes. "How about that Mercury?" he said. "We could give you the Mercury for $3000, taxes and fees included." I had forgotten which car the Mercury was by this point, because I really hadn't even given it a thought. We walked back over to it and when we got close, I realized, "Oh, it's this one." But the salesman was talking all about how nice it was, how it only had 85,000 miles on it, how it was owned by an old lady and garage kept all its life, how it was worth $6000 and they were going to let it go for $3 (hahahaha... worth $6000... riiiiiiight).
I was at a very dangerous moment. I was already taken over with that little chin-thrust attitude, "I am getting a car today." I was dazzled by the great paint job on the car. (It's blue, by the way.) Somehow, in a flash, I was sold on the car. I hadn't driven it, I hadn't filled out my little sheet, I hadn't even seen it from any angle other than from the driver's side back corner. The only problem was, I hadn't brought my money with me.
No problem, the dealer assured me. Come back tomorrow. We'll even pick you up.
Okay. deal.
They picked me up from work the next day and I handed over the money. I didn't end up getting it with the taxes and fees included, because the way they were going to do that was by lying on the title and putting down that I bought it for like $30, so that the taxes wouldn't be high, and I refused to go along with that, so I ended up having to pay the taxes too. But I didn't care. I was getting a car. (Now I think I could have negotiated that: Lower the price of the car or I'm walking out. But I didn't, and it's too late now. Live and learn.)
I drove the car home.
Parked it in the driveway.
Wow, this thing is a beast.
And I wonder how much gas this V8 engine is going use up?
I looked up the gas mileage. According to the cool little digital thingie in the dashboard of the car, the average MPG was 9.0. I calculated the cost of going to work and going to church at the current gas price (which was then $3.50).
Ahhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaaa! Ack! It was going to cost me $17 just to go to church!
It would cost me $3 just to go to work, a distance that I could walk. I'll be throwing a quarter and a dime out the window every single mile!
Suddenly I was wishing that life had an undo button. Oops! Ctrl + Z! Let's do that one over!
But other than selling the car for the price I paid for it (which I now doubted I could even do), there was no way to get out of this one.
Great. Now I was stuck with a gas hog, and I was never going to be able to afford to drive anywhere.
That night I wrote in my journal about my thoughts regarding it.
I thought I wanted a car, I reflected, but what I really wanted was freedom. Freedom to go on road trips. Freedom to be my own person, to go places without asking if someone needs the car, to do things I want to do without being hindered by lack of transportation to get there. I thought I was buying freedom for myself. Apparently, I wasn't. At least, it's going to cost me a lot more than I bargained for. Forget about road trips--I won't even be able to afford to go to church!
I didn't get the freedom I thought I was getting. But then I heard the sweet whisper of God's voice in my ear, and suddenly I knew why He had allowed me to get myself into this situation--just to teach me this one lesson.
True freedom is not found in roaming around geographically.
True freedom is found in Christ alone.
True freedom is not freedom from external restraints in my life (like lack of money or transportation).
True freedom is freedom from sin.
If I find my freedom in how many trips I get to take a year, I do not know the meaning of freedom.
If I find my freedom in being able to do things without asking anyone, I do not know the meaning of freedom.
I must find my freedom in Christ alone.
In Christ, I could be in a prison cell and still be free.
Apart from Christ, I could be a millionaire, driving the nicest hot rod in the country, and still be in bondage.
I am free--not because I have car keys, but because I have the living Christ reigning within my heart.
And this is more valuable than all the nice, efficient, orange cars in the world.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
God's unmistakeable provision
In the last few weeks, I have been reading through the New Testament, and the thing that has stood out to me this time through has been the topic of God's provision.
Verses like these have really spoken to me:
Verses like these have really spoken to me:
"And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work." 2 Corinthians 9:8
"But we beseech you, brethren, that ye increase more and more; and that ye study to be quiet, and to do your own business, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded you; that ye may walk honestly toward them that are without, and that ye may have lack of nothing." 1 Thessalonians 4:10-12
"For yourselves know how ye ought to follow us: for we behaved not ourselves disorderly among you; neither did we eat any man's bread for nought; but wrought with labour and travail night and day, that we might not be chargeable to any of you: Not because we have not power, but to make ourselves an ensample unto you to follow us. For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat. For we hear that there are some which walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but are busybodies. Now them that are such we command and exhort by our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work, and eat their own bread." 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12
"But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:19
Through these passages, God has brought me to the question, "Do I trust God to provide for my needs, or not?"
I initially answered, "Yes." (Of course I did. That's the "right" answer. How could I answer no?)
However, I came to see that deep down inside, I really felt that I ultimately had to trust myself.
Trusting in myself, I went down to a local restaurant that had a "Now Hiring" sign outside, and I filled out a job application for a waitress position. I really did need to make more money, and I thought this would be the best way to "help" God to provide for my needs.
Then God decided to confirm His word and show me, in real life, how things would be if HE was taking the initiative and providing for me.
First, out of the blue, I got a call from a parent wanting to set up piano lessons with their daughter. They had "somehow" found my music teaching profile online, on a music lessons site where I had filled out a profile but had never paid, so technically it shouldn't have even displayed. Each new student I get is $40 extra a month that I make.
Then, totally unexpectedly, the principal at the school where I work heard me playing the piano and offered to send out a letter to the parents of every child in the school, advertising my piano studio. :-O I designed a flyer and gave it to him, and he's even going to make the copies for me!
Then, just as unforeseen, a family from church asked me to house sit and watch their dog while they went away on vacation. This opportunity came back to back with another housesitting job that I had been asked to do, so I went from one person's house to the other with not even a day's interruption between them.
Again, out of the blue, someone "accidentally" found me online, didn't even see a phone number, and had the initiative to look me up in the phone book, where they managed to find me under my parents' name and call to set up piano lessons for their son.
Nothing ever came of the waitressing job, but with all the things God did for me, I will make that little bit extra that I was looking for. I am totally blown away by the fact that God did those things, all on His own initiative, without the least bit of my help. I am also blessed by the fact that these opportunities have been much less time-consuming and far more stress-free than the waitressing job would have been.
Thank you, God, for fulfilling Your Word!
Jehovah Jireh is my provider!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Seeing and hearing...vexed his soul?
I was struck by this verse while doing my devotions yesterday:
I often think (especially regarding movies), "Seeing and hearing this thing won't hurt me--it would only be wrong for me to participate in it."
So this verse challenged me to think a little deeper and be a little more careful. I may not be in danger of committing the actual deed, but I am still in danger of "vexing my soul" whenever I see and hear sinful acts.
So what is a vexed soul? Is it really that bad? In Lot's life, we see evidence of a vexed soul in the fact that he would offer his two daughters to the wicked men outside his door.
How could he give innocent women to be raped by a gang of lustful men?
Could he not tell that this was wrong?
No, because his soul was vexed. Even while he successfully maintained righteous standards for one form of evil, he unconsciously became desensitized to other forms of evil. He had his guard up against one, but his guard against the others vanished.
How many Christians have "vexed their souls" watching movies that contain sex, violence, rebellion against authority, foul language, and other wicked acts? How many excuse it for one reason or another, never realizing the damage they are doing to their souls?
More importantly, how have I vexed my soul in my life? Am I taking care of my soul? Am I living in such a way as to protect my soul from wounds and damage? Or do I think, "Hey, I'm strong. I can watch this movie or this television program without any damage to my Christian walk. I mean, it's not like I'm going to go out and do those things." This type of reasoning doesn't work in the light of this passage.
Let me do what David did, when he said in Psalm 101:3, "I will set no wicked thing before mine eyes: I hate the work of them that turn aside; it shall not cleave to me."
"And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked: (For that righteous man dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds;)" (2 Peter 2:7-8)Lot vexed his soul, not by participating in the evil deeds of the wicked, but just by seeing and hearing them.
I often think (especially regarding movies), "Seeing and hearing this thing won't hurt me--it would only be wrong for me to participate in it." So this verse challenged me to think a little deeper and be a little more careful. I may not be in danger of committing the actual deed, but I am still in danger of "vexing my soul" whenever I see and hear sinful acts.
So what is a vexed soul? Is it really that bad? In Lot's life, we see evidence of a vexed soul in the fact that he would offer his two daughters to the wicked men outside his door.
How could he give innocent women to be raped by a gang of lustful men?
Could he not tell that this was wrong?
No, because his soul was vexed. Even while he successfully maintained righteous standards for one form of evil, he unconsciously became desensitized to other forms of evil. He had his guard up against one, but his guard against the others vanished.
How many Christians have "vexed their souls" watching movies that contain sex, violence, rebellion against authority, foul language, and other wicked acts? How many excuse it for one reason or another, never realizing the damage they are doing to their souls?
More importantly, how have I vexed my soul in my life? Am I taking care of my soul? Am I living in such a way as to protect my soul from wounds and damage? Or do I think, "Hey, I'm strong. I can watch this movie or this television program without any damage to my Christian walk. I mean, it's not like I'm going to go out and do those things." This type of reasoning doesn't work in the light of this passage.
Let me do what David did, when he said in Psalm 101:3, "I will set no wicked thing before mine eyes: I hate the work of them that turn aside; it shall not cleave to me."
Friday, March 25, 2011
An Open Door
I love how God's timing is impeccable. One week after surrendering to Him my obedience, the deadline He had given me back at the beginning of the 2008 arrived months earlier than expected. This deadline had bound me to stay home, work, and not look into going back to the mission field until that date. Well, now I was free to start knocking at the door to go back!
Yay!
So I started looking into mission boards. I am filling out the initial application for one right now. This is exciting and fulfilling news. Hadn't God said, "Rest content here until this time, and then wait for me to open up the door"?
I look back over all that I learned in the past three years. Oh my goodness, it's incredible. I could never have been a missionary without all the lessons I have learned. I could never have been fruitful or effective for God the way I was. But He faithfully held me back until He had had a chance to work in my life all the good purposes that He knew needed to take place, and then He set me free.
The Master Professor kept me in His classroom and didn't let me leave until I had mastered the required curriculum. I love the fact that He allowed me to sit at His feet as He patiently and expertly taught me. I'm so grateful to Him that He sent me through "Heaven Univeristy's" courses.
To sum up, here are the lessons that stand out to me from my 3-year curriculum.
Open Up Your Mouth and Speak: When I encounter lost people, the Master Professor taught me to be willing to communicate the gospel to them. He not only convinced me that I should do it, He actually got me doing it! Now, instead of cowering in silence when my heart is pounding with the Spirit's promptings to witness, I make use of the opportunities God gives me to open up my mouth and speak.
Depend on God: My professor faithfully stripped away all of my own self-sufficiency. I look at missions with more of a dependence on God now. I have less of the cocky, sure-of-myself mentality. ("Of course I can succeed as a missionary! God should be really thankful to see someone as amazing as me signing up.") Best of all He stepped in and offered Himself as the source of my strength.
Pray: Without prayer, how could I have been an effective missionary? God actually got me praying. He is still teaching me; I know I have a long way to go. But He has put the power cord in my hand, showed me how to plug it in, and given me ample evidence of its effectiveness. I am dealing with the hearts of humankind here--who am I to think I can reach anyone's heart? Only God can, and He waits to do it until I ask Him.
Get Up Early: This is a valuable lesson on so many levels. It taught me the utter ineffectiveness of my flesh, it caused me to have to be disciplined, it made me have to fight for something, it led me to see what God was going to say about obedience, it caused me to have to cling to God by faith, and so much more.
Be Filled with the Holy Spirit: The Spirit of God is the one who can lead me into the exact niche that He has designed my life to occupy. I cannot lead myself there. Without the work of the Spirit of God alive and active in my life, I could never hope to bring forth fruit for the Kingdom of God.
Obey: The catch-all for future things God wants to teach me. My professor was wise enough to work on obedience in individual, manageable areas before He introduced the overarching requirement to apply it to all of life. He knew that it would have remained a theoretical concept in my brain indefinitely if He had not first achieved practical action steps.
Work: Not just "go to work," but work at whatever God has asked me to do. This means I'm not allowed to be lazy. It takes work to be obedient.
All of these are works in progress. However, the Master Professor has firmly planted my feet in the right path, and He has shown me how to walk in it, and He has succeeded in seeing that I take steps. Now, the fun begins. All of these areas will develop, strengthen, and mature in my life as I continue to follow the Lamb wherever He Leads.
Yay!
So I started looking into mission boards. I am filling out the initial application for one right now. This is exciting and fulfilling news. Hadn't God said, "Rest content here until this time, and then wait for me to open up the door"?
I look back over all that I learned in the past three years. Oh my goodness, it's incredible. I could never have been a missionary without all the lessons I have learned. I could never have been fruitful or effective for God the way I was. But He faithfully held me back until He had had a chance to work in my life all the good purposes that He knew needed to take place, and then He set me free.
The Master Professor kept me in His classroom and didn't let me leave until I had mastered the required curriculum. I love the fact that He allowed me to sit at His feet as He patiently and expertly taught me. I'm so grateful to Him that He sent me through "Heaven Univeristy's" courses.
To sum up, here are the lessons that stand out to me from my 3-year curriculum.
Open Up Your Mouth and Speak: When I encounter lost people, the Master Professor taught me to be willing to communicate the gospel to them. He not only convinced me that I should do it, He actually got me doing it! Now, instead of cowering in silence when my heart is pounding with the Spirit's promptings to witness, I make use of the opportunities God gives me to open up my mouth and speak.
Depend on God: My professor faithfully stripped away all of my own self-sufficiency. I look at missions with more of a dependence on God now. I have less of the cocky, sure-of-myself mentality. ("Of course I can succeed as a missionary! God should be really thankful to see someone as amazing as me signing up.") Best of all He stepped in and offered Himself as the source of my strength.
Pray: Without prayer, how could I have been an effective missionary? God actually got me praying. He is still teaching me; I know I have a long way to go. But He has put the power cord in my hand, showed me how to plug it in, and given me ample evidence of its effectiveness. I am dealing with the hearts of humankind here--who am I to think I can reach anyone's heart? Only God can, and He waits to do it until I ask Him.
Get Up Early: This is a valuable lesson on so many levels. It taught me the utter ineffectiveness of my flesh, it caused me to have to be disciplined, it made me have to fight for something, it led me to see what God was going to say about obedience, it caused me to have to cling to God by faith, and so much more.
Be Filled with the Holy Spirit: The Spirit of God is the one who can lead me into the exact niche that He has designed my life to occupy. I cannot lead myself there. Without the work of the Spirit of God alive and active in my life, I could never hope to bring forth fruit for the Kingdom of God.
Obey: The catch-all for future things God wants to teach me. My professor was wise enough to work on obedience in individual, manageable areas before He introduced the overarching requirement to apply it to all of life. He knew that it would have remained a theoretical concept in my brain indefinitely if He had not first achieved practical action steps.
Work: Not just "go to work," but work at whatever God has asked me to do. This means I'm not allowed to be lazy. It takes work to be obedient.
All of these are works in progress. However, the Master Professor has firmly planted my feet in the right path, and He has shown me how to walk in it, and He has succeeded in seeing that I take steps. Now, the fun begins. All of these areas will develop, strengthen, and mature in my life as I continue to follow the Lamb wherever He Leads.
The End
Previous Post: The puzzle pieces fall into place
First Post: Tutored under the Master Professor
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The puzzle pieces fall into place
Soon after seeing how my job was simply to obey the Lord, everything started fitting together.
Getting up early? That boiled down to obedience. I simply had to obey God and do it.
Prayer? Obedience again. No longer could I raise my frequent excuse, "But I just don't feel like praying right now." If God had commanded me to pray, I needed to obediently pray.
Depending on God? Still obedience. If I didn't depend on Him, I would never be able to obey. Suddenly I was acutely dependent on God, automatically, because in and of myself, I was not very obedient.
Open up you mouth and speak? All I had to do to master that was to obey.
And suddenly I saw that it went so much farther beyond that. Obedience backed up everything in my spiritual walk. God was working on these three areas today, but he might choose to tackle other areas tomorrow, and in whatever He chose to work on, I needed to be obedient if I was going to get anywhere.
It was on December 14, 2010 that I was desiring something from God. I can't remember exactly what it was now...some kind of spiritual advancement or blessing...I'll have to look it up in my journal. Anyway, God firmly impressed it upon my mind, "You can't have this until you give me your obedience." The light bulb flicked on. "Ohhhhh! Obedience is the pathway to actually getting somewhere!" I realized. I felt a little ridiculous that it had taken me this long for it to dawn on me. "Okay, deal," I said. I felt God's smile. "I win," He seemed to say.
It worked!
I finally started to obey!
God had gotten through to me!
And then things started happening.
Next Post: An Open Door
Previous Post: Obey
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Getting up early? That boiled down to obedience. I simply had to obey God and do it.
Prayer? Obedience again. No longer could I raise my frequent excuse, "But I just don't feel like praying right now." If God had commanded me to pray, I needed to obediently pray.
Depending on God? Still obedience. If I didn't depend on Him, I would never be able to obey. Suddenly I was acutely dependent on God, automatically, because in and of myself, I was not very obedient.
Open up you mouth and speak? All I had to do to master that was to obey.
And suddenly I saw that it went so much farther beyond that. Obedience backed up everything in my spiritual walk. God was working on these three areas today, but he might choose to tackle other areas tomorrow, and in whatever He chose to work on, I needed to be obedient if I was going to get anywhere.
It was on December 14, 2010 that I was desiring something from God. I can't remember exactly what it was now...some kind of spiritual advancement or blessing...I'll have to look it up in my journal. Anyway, God firmly impressed it upon my mind, "You can't have this until you give me your obedience." The light bulb flicked on. "Ohhhhh! Obedience is the pathway to actually getting somewhere!" I realized. I felt a little ridiculous that it had taken me this long for it to dawn on me. "Okay, deal," I said. I felt God's smile. "I win," He seemed to say.
It worked!
I finally started to obey!
God had gotten through to me!
And then things started happening.
Next Post: An Open Door
Previous Post: Obey
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Obey
Obey, obey, obey.
I still struggled on with my three areas: Get up early, pray, and depend on God. From April until December of 2010, I met with one failure and setback after another. For a period of about a month during the summer, I read Romans 6 every single day, hoping to glean some insight into how to reckon myself dead to sin. I started to be so desperate for the power of Christ's resurrection to actually operate in me, and I didn't know what I was doing wrong. For about 3 weeks in July, I went on an early morning prayer walk with my sisters and another girl, where we all prayed for various needs, and I poured out my heart to the Lord, pleading with Him to change me. Why did progress have to be so slow?
One day, I took an extra-long walk by myself around a loop that we don't usually walk (because it's too long). Something just had to change. I just had to get ahold of God and find some deliverance. I walked along and prayed and cried. At one point in my walk, my eye was attracted to a small graveyard up a hill off the side of the road, and I walked up to it. I went in and looked at some of the tombstones and found a place to sit down against a fence. There, I continued praying, looking up into the sky and crying out to God for answers.
There seemed to be an especially large number of birds in the sky. I wanted to be like those birds, soaring above all my troubles.
Romans 6 came flooding back into my mind, and I started quoting it. I looked around at all the tombstones as I quoted parts about death to sin.
"Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death."
"We have been planted together in the likeness of his death."
"Our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin."
"He that is dead--dead!--is freed from sin."
"If we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him."
The phrase came into my mind, "The law of sin and death." I looked back up at the birds. An analogy came into my mind: "The law of gravity and death." If you step out of a plane, or off the edge of a skyscraper, you will certainly conform to the law of gravity and death. I thought, "The law of gravity is binding on me. It is the reason I am sitting here, stuck to the ground, and not flying around in the sky with the birds. It's just like sin. The law of sin is binding on me. It keeps me walking down on the ground, among all this death, instead of mounting up with wings and soaring to heights above with Christ."
But the birds! The birds were overcoming the law of gravity. And, I trusted, there was a way to overcome sin through the resurrection of Christ. But what was it?
I quoted through Romans 6 until I reached verse 16. There I stopped.
"Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?"
Suddenly, the light dawned.
Obedience!
There is the key. Obey the Lord.
"If I could only get that stuck fast in my head," I thought. "Obey the Lord. Obey the Lord. Obey the Lord." It simplifies everything. I only have to worry about one thing. All I have to do is obey. (All I have to do...heh...easier said than done, I know!) But I only have to occupy myself with this one task. Clearly, I have been disobedient. Obviously, that is what has hindered me from getting anywhere. I rebel against God in disobedience, and thereby obey the law of sin unto death.
I walked out of the graveyard with purpose and hope, clinging to that simple concept: Obey.
Next Post: The Puzzle Pieces Fall into Place
Previous Post: Be Filled with the Holy Spirit
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
I still struggled on with my three areas: Get up early, pray, and depend on God. From April until December of 2010, I met with one failure and setback after another. For a period of about a month during the summer, I read Romans 6 every single day, hoping to glean some insight into how to reckon myself dead to sin. I started to be so desperate for the power of Christ's resurrection to actually operate in me, and I didn't know what I was doing wrong. For about 3 weeks in July, I went on an early morning prayer walk with my sisters and another girl, where we all prayed for various needs, and I poured out my heart to the Lord, pleading with Him to change me. Why did progress have to be so slow?
One day, I took an extra-long walk by myself around a loop that we don't usually walk (because it's too long). Something just had to change. I just had to get ahold of God and find some deliverance. I walked along and prayed and cried. At one point in my walk, my eye was attracted to a small graveyard up a hill off the side of the road, and I walked up to it. I went in and looked at some of the tombstones and found a place to sit down against a fence. There, I continued praying, looking up into the sky and crying out to God for answers.
There seemed to be an especially large number of birds in the sky. I wanted to be like those birds, soaring above all my troubles.
Romans 6 came flooding back into my mind, and I started quoting it. I looked around at all the tombstones as I quoted parts about death to sin.
"Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death."
"We have been planted together in the likeness of his death."
"Our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin."
"He that is dead--dead!--is freed from sin."
"If we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him."
The phrase came into my mind, "The law of sin and death." I looked back up at the birds. An analogy came into my mind: "The law of gravity and death." If you step out of a plane, or off the edge of a skyscraper, you will certainly conform to the law of gravity and death. I thought, "The law of gravity is binding on me. It is the reason I am sitting here, stuck to the ground, and not flying around in the sky with the birds. It's just like sin. The law of sin is binding on me. It keeps me walking down on the ground, among all this death, instead of mounting up with wings and soaring to heights above with Christ."
But the birds! The birds were overcoming the law of gravity. And, I trusted, there was a way to overcome sin through the resurrection of Christ. But what was it?
I quoted through Romans 6 until I reached verse 16. There I stopped.
"Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?"
Suddenly, the light dawned.
Obedience!
There is the key. Obey the Lord.
"If I could only get that stuck fast in my head," I thought. "Obey the Lord. Obey the Lord. Obey the Lord." It simplifies everything. I only have to worry about one thing. All I have to do is obey. (All I have to do...heh...easier said than done, I know!) But I only have to occupy myself with this one task. Clearly, I have been disobedient. Obviously, that is what has hindered me from getting anywhere. I rebel against God in disobedience, and thereby obey the law of sin unto death.
I walked out of the graveyard with purpose and hope, clinging to that simple concept: Obey.
Next Post: The Puzzle Pieces Fall into Place
Previous Post: Be Filled with the Holy Spirit
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Be filled with the Holy Spirit
About a month after giving myself to the Holy Spirit to be used and controlled by Him, I came across a friend's facebook page, where one of her friends had randomly made some comment about Jackie Pullinger. I was intrigued. I had read a short biography of Jackie Pullinger in one of Leslie Ludy's books (Can't remember if it was Set Apart Femininity or Authentic Beauty), and just out of curiosity, I googled her name. One of the things that came up was a link to some of her messages. I listened to a 3-part message called "Be filled with the Holy Spirit" (which you can find and listen to here), and through her testimony and praying with her at the end, I received the gift of tongues.
Yeah.
Right there, some of you are going, "Whoa, Rebekah just got herself far out into left field here." Yeah. Or maybe not.
This is the first time I am putting this information in public. It's not something I do in public, and it's not something I talk about with people unless they ask me about it. I considered not sharing this part of the story, but I think it's a vital part of what came later, and it seems sort of like hiding an elephant to pass over it and skip this part as if it didn't have anything to do with my spiritual development.
I was as curious as anything about it. I started praying in my new language every day, and I couldn't help trying to analyze what I was saying, what language this sounded like, what the words meant. I didn't get anywhere with that, but one thing I observed was that I didn't know the whole language all at once. At first, I only had the consonants 'c,' 'p,' 'n,' and 'g' mixed in with the vowels. I even thought to myself, "This is getting boring... let me introduce a new sound in here," but it didn't work. I had the feeling that the Holy Spirit chuckled at me and said, "That's not a word, silly." But when I wasn't trying to "get creative" with it, gradually different sounds added themselves in there, until I was speaking a full range of interesting-sounding language. Upon reflection, I was amazed that I had been able to pray initially in that limited vocabulary. Could you make up many sentences in English using only the consonants c, p, n, & g? I couldn't. But yet I had been speaking strings and strings of different sentences, causing me to marvel at the Holy Spirit's ability to filter out all the rest of the consonants and still say something (even if I didn't know what, I trusted that He did).
If you're going, "She's making this up," it's the same thing I was wondering. But this wasn't the first time I had tried to speak in tongues. Always before, I had just invented "baby-talk" words that I knew I was making up. This time, it was different. I had the divine witness that I was saying something. Also, the sounds I was making didn't all come from English. There were glottal stops and weird vowels and consonants that made my tongue do things it had never done before and a very melody of tonality that was different from English.
According to Scripture,
Next Post: Obey
Previous post: Help and Light
First post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Yeah.
Right there, some of you are going, "Whoa, Rebekah just got herself far out into left field here." Yeah. Or maybe not.
This is the first time I am putting this information in public. It's not something I do in public, and it's not something I talk about with people unless they ask me about it. I considered not sharing this part of the story, but I think it's a vital part of what came later, and it seems sort of like hiding an elephant to pass over it and skip this part as if it didn't have anything to do with my spiritual development.
I was as curious as anything about it. I started praying in my new language every day, and I couldn't help trying to analyze what I was saying, what language this sounded like, what the words meant. I didn't get anywhere with that, but one thing I observed was that I didn't know the whole language all at once. At first, I only had the consonants 'c,' 'p,' 'n,' and 'g' mixed in with the vowels. I even thought to myself, "This is getting boring... let me introduce a new sound in here," but it didn't work. I had the feeling that the Holy Spirit chuckled at me and said, "That's not a word, silly." But when I wasn't trying to "get creative" with it, gradually different sounds added themselves in there, until I was speaking a full range of interesting-sounding language. Upon reflection, I was amazed that I had been able to pray initially in that limited vocabulary. Could you make up many sentences in English using only the consonants c, p, n, & g? I couldn't. But yet I had been speaking strings and strings of different sentences, causing me to marvel at the Holy Spirit's ability to filter out all the rest of the consonants and still say something (even if I didn't know what, I trusted that He did).
If you're going, "She's making this up," it's the same thing I was wondering. But this wasn't the first time I had tried to speak in tongues. Always before, I had just invented "baby-talk" words that I knew I was making up. This time, it was different. I had the divine witness that I was saying something. Also, the sounds I was making didn't all come from English. There were glottal stops and weird vowels and consonants that made my tongue do things it had never done before and a very melody of tonality that was different from English.
According to Scripture,
"For he that speaketh in an unknown tongue speaketh not unto men, but unto God: for no man understandeth him; howbeit in the spirit he speaketh mysteries."So what were the results of this new adventure?
"He that speaketh in an unknown tongue edifieth himself."
"Forbid not to speak with tongues."
(1 Cor 14:2, 4, 39)
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? I the LORD search the heart." Jer. 17:9-10The first thing God revealed to me was deception. He showed me how much deception existed in my own heart, and He caused me to begin to abhor it. He dealt with these areas of deception one by one. I had never seen how deceitful my own heart was. He caused me to seek and desire truth.
"But when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth." (John 16:13)God also began to show me the desperate wickedness of my own heart. It took a lot longer to do this, and I am still in that process. I had always admitted that I was a sinner, but I still considered myself to be a pretty good Christian. God stripped all this away and showed me the extent to which my heart was at enmity with Him, how I fled from His ways, how I only sought to please myself, and how I rebelled against Him--all the time. He brought me to grief and repentance over this, and began to change me.
Next Post: Obey
Previous post: Help and Light
First post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Interesting Connection
I interrupt this story to bring you this unique circumstance.
Last night I was reading a book called The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life by Hannah Whitall Smith. In this book, I came across the following segment from chapter 18, which surprised me at how nearly it paralleled the thoughts I shared in my last post, though I first journaled these thoughts approximately a year ago and had never read or heard reference to this book until now.
"If I am really a child of God, then of necessity my heart is already the temple of God, and Christ is already within me. What is needed, therefore, is only that I shall recognize His presence and yield fully to His control.
"It seems to me just in this way: as though Christ were living in a house, shut up in a far-off closet, unknown and unnoticed by the dwellers in the house, longing to make Himself known to them, and to be one with them in all their daily lives, and share in all their interests, but unwilling to force Himself upon their notice, because nothing but a voluntary companionship could meet or satisfy the needs of His love. The days pass by over that favored household, and they remain in ignorance of their marvelous privilege. They come and go about all their daily affairs, with no thought of their wonderful Guest. Their plans are laid without reference to Him. His wisdom to guide and His strength to protect are all lost to them. Lonely days and weeks are spent in sadness which might have been full of the sweetness of His presence.
"But suddenly the announcement is made, "The Lord is in the house!" How will its owner receive the intelligence? Will he call out an eager thanksgiving, and throw wide open every door for the entrance of his glorious Guest? Or will he shrink and hesitate, afraid of His presence, and seek to reserve some private corner for a refuge from His all-seeing eye?
"Dear friend, I make the glad announcement to thee that the Lord is in thy heart. Since the day of thy conversion He has been dwelling there, but thou hast lived on in ignorance of it. Every moment during all that time might have been passed in the sunshine of His sweet presence, and every step have been taken under His advice. But because thou knew it not, and did not look for Him there, thy life has been lonely and full of failure. But now that I make the announcement to thee, how wilt thou receive it? Art thou glad to have Him? Wilt thou throw wide open every door to welcome Him in? Wilt thou joyfully and thankfully give up the government of thy life into His hands? Wilt thou consult Him about everything, and let Him decide each step for thee, and mark out every path? Wilt thou invite Him into thy innermost chambers, and make Him the sharer in thy most hidden life? Wilt thou say "Yes" to all His longing for union with thee, and with a glad and eager abandonment hand thyself and all that concerns thee over into His hands? If thou wilt, then shall thy soul begin to know something of the joy of union with Christ."
Last night I was reading a book called The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life by Hannah Whitall Smith. In this book, I came across the following segment from chapter 18, which surprised me at how nearly it paralleled the thoughts I shared in my last post, though I first journaled these thoughts approximately a year ago and had never read or heard reference to this book until now.
"If I am really a child of God, then of necessity my heart is already the temple of God, and Christ is already within me. What is needed, therefore, is only that I shall recognize His presence and yield fully to His control.
"It seems to me just in this way: as though Christ were living in a house, shut up in a far-off closet, unknown and unnoticed by the dwellers in the house, longing to make Himself known to them, and to be one with them in all their daily lives, and share in all their interests, but unwilling to force Himself upon their notice, because nothing but a voluntary companionship could meet or satisfy the needs of His love. The days pass by over that favored household, and they remain in ignorance of their marvelous privilege. They come and go about all their daily affairs, with no thought of their wonderful Guest. Their plans are laid without reference to Him. His wisdom to guide and His strength to protect are all lost to them. Lonely days and weeks are spent in sadness which might have been full of the sweetness of His presence.
"But suddenly the announcement is made, "The Lord is in the house!" How will its owner receive the intelligence? Will he call out an eager thanksgiving, and throw wide open every door for the entrance of his glorious Guest? Or will he shrink and hesitate, afraid of His presence, and seek to reserve some private corner for a refuge from His all-seeing eye?
"Dear friend, I make the glad announcement to thee that the Lord is in thy heart. Since the day of thy conversion He has been dwelling there, but thou hast lived on in ignorance of it. Every moment during all that time might have been passed in the sunshine of His sweet presence, and every step have been taken under His advice. But because thou knew it not, and did not look for Him there, thy life has been lonely and full of failure. But now that I make the announcement to thee, how wilt thou receive it? Art thou glad to have Him? Wilt thou throw wide open every door to welcome Him in? Wilt thou joyfully and thankfully give up the government of thy life into His hands? Wilt thou consult Him about everything, and let Him decide each step for thee, and mark out every path? Wilt thou invite Him into thy innermost chambers, and make Him the sharer in thy most hidden life? Wilt thou say "Yes" to all His longing for union with thee, and with a glad and eager abandonment hand thyself and all that concerns thee over into His hands? If thou wilt, then shall thy soul begin to know something of the joy of union with Christ."
Monday, February 28, 2011
Help and Light
God graciously gave me a hint to steer me in the right direction. And HERE begins the good part, that part that I've been waiting to get to. The very reason that I began this whole story back in the summer last year was so that I could lead up to this.
My pastor preached a sermon from Ephesians 3 one Sunday night, and one phrase from verse 17 particularly caught my attention: "That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith." Pastor said he hoped everyone present could say that Christ was dwelling in their hearts, and he went on to say that the Holy Spirit comes in to dwell with every believer at the moment of salvation. I knew that; I believe that, but a new thought struck me.
"If the Holy Spirit indwells me, what kind of house does He find it? Does He feel welcome and at home here?"
I had the realization that no, indeed He does not. I had a vision of the Holy Spirit shuffled away in some dark corner of the house, while I reigned supreme over my life, not even affording Him the slightest courtesy or the barest hospitality. In the little nook under the stairs where I had pushed Him, He was not "in my way" as I bustled about, cleaning here and there, making plans here and there, and taking action on this project or that project, all without consulting Him or even taking time to converse with Him.
How wrong!
If a delegation of ambassadors or dignitaries arrived at my door, I knew how I would treat them. I would dress my best, welcome them graciously, and lay myself out to attend to their slightest wishes. I would be alert to the smallest hints as to how I could better serve them. I would listen to their conversation and be sparing with how much I talked about myself. I would not complain at the length of time they stayed or question the things they wanted to do. I would be at their disposal. They would have the best seats, the best food, and every comfort I could provide for them. Their smallest wish would be granted.
I realized that I needed to get things right with God. He bought me--He redeemed me--He indwelt me--He blessed me with His glorious presence--and I had treated him this way in return.
Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? (1 Cor 3:16)
What? Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's. (1 Cor. 6:19-20)
I got on my knees before God and asked His forgiveness. I said that from now on, I would give Him complete control. I would attend to His slightest wishes. I would take my orders from Him instead of the other way around. I would be shuffled aside into the obscurity of the little nook under the stairs, if He so chose. I surrendered to Him the deed and the key to the house. From now on, He would be the owner.
And do you know what? He accepted it. He didn't treat me like I had treated Him, either. He didn't forget about me in the corner under the stairs, but with the tenderest acceptance and love, drew me out by the hand and gave me a role to participate in the work that He was doing. Furthermore, He set to work, calmly ordering the house back from the sloppy chaos I had left, expertly putting things back to a state of peace and orderliness.
I was amazed at His patience. How did He wait so patiently, knowing exactly what needed to be done, yet allowing me to go on alone, not forcing His way into the picture, but waiting to be invited?
I was amazed at His forgiveness. It was a shame and an offense...an atrocity...an abomination... that the Holy Spirit of God should ever have been so rudely treated, so shoved into a corner, so shut out and marginalized, so dishonored and disrespected. But He forgave me. How I praise Him for His mercy!
Thus I began the adventure of learning how to walk in this new way, yielding to the Holy Spirit's leadership in my life. But the battle wasn't over.
Next Post: Be Filled with the Holy Spirit
Previous Post: Get Up Early: Skirmish #2
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
My pastor preached a sermon from Ephesians 3 one Sunday night, and one phrase from verse 17 particularly caught my attention: "That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith." Pastor said he hoped everyone present could say that Christ was dwelling in their hearts, and he went on to say that the Holy Spirit comes in to dwell with every believer at the moment of salvation. I knew that; I believe that, but a new thought struck me.
"If the Holy Spirit indwells me, what kind of house does He find it? Does He feel welcome and at home here?"
I had the realization that no, indeed He does not. I had a vision of the Holy Spirit shuffled away in some dark corner of the house, while I reigned supreme over my life, not even affording Him the slightest courtesy or the barest hospitality. In the little nook under the stairs where I had pushed Him, He was not "in my way" as I bustled about, cleaning here and there, making plans here and there, and taking action on this project or that project, all without consulting Him or even taking time to converse with Him.
How wrong!
If a delegation of ambassadors or dignitaries arrived at my door, I knew how I would treat them. I would dress my best, welcome them graciously, and lay myself out to attend to their slightest wishes. I would be alert to the smallest hints as to how I could better serve them. I would listen to their conversation and be sparing with how much I talked about myself. I would not complain at the length of time they stayed or question the things they wanted to do. I would be at their disposal. They would have the best seats, the best food, and every comfort I could provide for them. Their smallest wish would be granted.I realized that I needed to get things right with God. He bought me--He redeemed me--He indwelt me--He blessed me with His glorious presence--and I had treated him this way in return.
Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? (1 Cor 3:16)
What? Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's. (1 Cor. 6:19-20)
I got on my knees before God and asked His forgiveness. I said that from now on, I would give Him complete control. I would attend to His slightest wishes. I would take my orders from Him instead of the other way around. I would be shuffled aside into the obscurity of the little nook under the stairs, if He so chose. I surrendered to Him the deed and the key to the house. From now on, He would be the owner.
And do you know what? He accepted it. He didn't treat me like I had treated Him, either. He didn't forget about me in the corner under the stairs, but with the tenderest acceptance and love, drew me out by the hand and gave me a role to participate in the work that He was doing. Furthermore, He set to work, calmly ordering the house back from the sloppy chaos I had left, expertly putting things back to a state of peace and orderliness.
I was amazed at His patience. How did He wait so patiently, knowing exactly what needed to be done, yet allowing me to go on alone, not forcing His way into the picture, but waiting to be invited?
I was amazed at His forgiveness. It was a shame and an offense...an atrocity...an abomination... that the Holy Spirit of God should ever have been so rudely treated, so shoved into a corner, so shut out and marginalized, so dishonored and disrespected. But He forgave me. How I praise Him for His mercy!
Thus I began the adventure of learning how to walk in this new way, yielding to the Holy Spirit's leadership in my life. But the battle wasn't over.
Next Post: Be Filled with the Holy Spirit
Previous Post: Get Up Early: Skirmish #2
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Friday, February 25, 2011
Get Up Early: Skirmish #2
So then I had this bright idea.
For every day that I didn't get up in time to have my devotions, I would fast the whole day.
"Mwa-ha-ha," I thought gleefully to myself. "This'll teach me!" I do love food, and I was sure that even the bare threat of going without it would be enough to get me up in the morning. However, just to make sure I knew I wasn't bluffing, I made myself the rule that I had to get up on the first ring of the alarm (no hitting snooze). I wrote in my journal that day, "I'm tired of the defeat that sees me, day after day, succumbing to the sleep-god. I can't not learn this."
I admit that I really thought I wouldn't have to carry out my threat on myself. But the second day, I was already fasting. I knew it would take a whole day of fasting to hurt badly enough to be effective, because fasting for one meal, or even two, is so easy for me that it would have no impact on my sleep-ridden brain's reasoning power. That day, I ruthlessly carried out my threat, determined to drive the knife blade into the flesh and kill it till it was dead. I sniffed deliberately whenever there were any food odors to be smelled--and there were some good ones. I deliberately looked at food items so that I could tell myself, "See? You could have had that if you hadn't done that this morning."
But even still, I was thinking I undoubtedly wouldn't have to do it a second time, once the flesh saw I meant business.
Ha.
By the time seven days had passed, I had fasted four of them. After two weeks had passed with me eating only about every other day, I was hungry, thin, and extremely irritable.
I decided it was time to reevaluate. I felt like I could starve myself to death before I would ever give up sleep. I evidently loved sleep much more than I loved food.
Also, I realized that I was fasting in the strength of the flesh. I was wielding a crowbar against myself to try to move myself, but it was about as effective as a tree trying to pull itself up by the roots. No matter how resolved I was, if I was operating in the flesh to try to destroy the flesh, the flesh would wimp out at the last minute and not carry out its threat against itself. And I felt like the more I fought against myself, the more I weakened myself and made myself unfit to continue to fight.
What made things even worse was that when I did get up to pray, my prayer times were duller than ever. Somehow, I just couldn't connect with God. What was wrong with me?
Next Post: Help and Light
Previous Post: My Custer's Last Stand
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
For every day that I didn't get up in time to have my devotions, I would fast the whole day.
"Mwa-ha-ha," I thought gleefully to myself. "This'll teach me!" I do love food, and I was sure that even the bare threat of going without it would be enough to get me up in the morning. However, just to make sure I knew I wasn't bluffing, I made myself the rule that I had to get up on the first ring of the alarm (no hitting snooze). I wrote in my journal that day, "I'm tired of the defeat that sees me, day after day, succumbing to the sleep-god. I can't not learn this."
I admit that I really thought I wouldn't have to carry out my threat on myself. But the second day, I was already fasting. I knew it would take a whole day of fasting to hurt badly enough to be effective, because fasting for one meal, or even two, is so easy for me that it would have no impact on my sleep-ridden brain's reasoning power. That day, I ruthlessly carried out my threat, determined to drive the knife blade into the flesh and kill it till it was dead. I sniffed deliberately whenever there were any food odors to be smelled--and there were some good ones. I deliberately looked at food items so that I could tell myself, "See? You could have had that if you hadn't done that this morning."
But even still, I was thinking I undoubtedly wouldn't have to do it a second time, once the flesh saw I meant business.
Ha.
By the time seven days had passed, I had fasted four of them. After two weeks had passed with me eating only about every other day, I was hungry, thin, and extremely irritable.
I decided it was time to reevaluate. I felt like I could starve myself to death before I would ever give up sleep. I evidently loved sleep much more than I loved food.
Also, I realized that I was fasting in the strength of the flesh. I was wielding a crowbar against myself to try to move myself, but it was about as effective as a tree trying to pull itself up by the roots. No matter how resolved I was, if I was operating in the flesh to try to destroy the flesh, the flesh would wimp out at the last minute and not carry out its threat against itself. And I felt like the more I fought against myself, the more I weakened myself and made myself unfit to continue to fight.
What made things even worse was that when I did get up to pray, my prayer times were duller than ever. Somehow, I just couldn't connect with God. What was wrong with me?
Next Post: Help and Light
Previous Post: My Custer's Last Stand
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Get up Early: My Custer's Last Stand
The third aspect of my assignment was to do my devotions first, at the beginning of the day. I never failed to do my devotions, but I did them at night. And it was here that my flesh put up a determined, all-or-nothing fight to not yield. My flesh was NOT going to sacrifice those precious moments of sleep if it could help it.
I must add, by the way, that I had been feeling like I should do this since at least 2006, so this was a long-running struggle going much farther back than the other two assignments. And I found that no matter what I did, I simply could not prevail against myself.
I would go to bed with the best of intentions of getting up early the next day, but sleep would totally erase them from my brain, and by the time the alarm clock rang, the only thing I could think of was indulging in as much sleep as possible before I absolutely had to get up and go to work.
This made me sad, because it was like God would whisper to me, "Do you love sleep that much more than you love me?" I could get up to go to work, but I could not get up to make my appointment with my Savior. I could get up at, say, 3 am if I was going on a trip, but I could not get up at 6 to meet with Jesus. I could get up consistently every day at 6 if I had to be at work by 7, but if my work schedule changed and I didn't have to get there until 9, suddenly I "couldn't" get up at 6 anymore.
The flesh had declared its intentions. No surrender! This is not going to happen.
The spirit declared its intentions. Oh, yes, you are going to do this, and I'm going to fight until I succeed.
And so, the battle raged. And raged. And raged.
One of the early skirmishes involved a plan where I determined to fill out an "Accountability Sheet" that I invented for myself. I set myself a period of one month in which I answered nine questions:
1. What time did you go to bed last night?
2. What time did you get up this morning?
3. Was your alarm set?
4. What did you read in the Bible today?
5. Did you pray today?
6. What time did you leave Edith's? (At the time I was spending the night with an elderly neighbor)
7. Account for the time you spent today. What did you get done?
8. Was there anything else you should have gotten done?
9. Was there anything you did that you shouldn't have done? (In other words, did you waste any time?)
I did this faithfully for an entire month, and I was trying really, really hard to improve. In my mind's eye, I saw a graph of my bed times and waking up times, with a gently descending line that settled on a sensible bedtime and arising time and then fixed there for the rest of the month. My goal was to go to bed at 10 and get up at 6.
When the month was over, I plotted my actual points on a graph in my journal. Here is the graph.
Chaos! I was dismayed. And this was when I was trying. I would hate to see what it was before that. Still undaunted, however, I determined that the fight must go on. "Now I see where I am and how far I have to go," I said to myself. "So I'll do it for another month, and surely I'll see some improvement."
Here is the second month's chart.
Still chaos! Sure, my bedtime evened out. But that was not the point. The point was to work on my waking up time. The point was to arrive to a state where love for God could get me up out of a warm, comfortable bed, to go kneel on a cold, hard floor in prayer, because God was that worth it to me. The point was to achieve self-discipline and go by the rules I had set for myself, not by the frenzy of emotion that the moment of the alarm clock's ring produced in me. The point was to love God more than I loved sleep. Funny how every night before I went to sleep, I could convince myself that finally, today, my love for God was going to be enough to get me up, but every morning when the alarm clock rang, I couldn't think of anything but, "Just give me a few more minutes." And those few minutes inevitably lasted until the moment where I panicked and said to myself, "There's no way I'll be able to get ready and get to work on time if I don't get up." No time now for a quiet hour of stillness before the King of Kings. Now that hour was used up and I barely had time to shower and dress for work.
So that skirmish left me pretty much where I was before. Many more skirmishes were to come.
Next Post: Get Up Early: Skirmish #2
Previous Post: Learn to Pray
First Post: Tutored under the Master Professor
I must add, by the way, that I had been feeling like I should do this since at least 2006, so this was a long-running struggle going much farther back than the other two assignments. And I found that no matter what I did, I simply could not prevail against myself.
I would go to bed with the best of intentions of getting up early the next day, but sleep would totally erase them from my brain, and by the time the alarm clock rang, the only thing I could think of was indulging in as much sleep as possible before I absolutely had to get up and go to work.
This made me sad, because it was like God would whisper to me, "Do you love sleep that much more than you love me?" I could get up to go to work, but I could not get up to make my appointment with my Savior. I could get up at, say, 3 am if I was going on a trip, but I could not get up at 6 to meet with Jesus. I could get up consistently every day at 6 if I had to be at work by 7, but if my work schedule changed and I didn't have to get there until 9, suddenly I "couldn't" get up at 6 anymore.
The flesh had declared its intentions. No surrender! This is not going to happen.
The spirit declared its intentions. Oh, yes, you are going to do this, and I'm going to fight until I succeed.
And so, the battle raged. And raged. And raged.
One of the early skirmishes involved a plan where I determined to fill out an "Accountability Sheet" that I invented for myself. I set myself a period of one month in which I answered nine questions:
1. What time did you go to bed last night?
2. What time did you get up this morning?
3. Was your alarm set?
4. What did you read in the Bible today?
5. Did you pray today?
6. What time did you leave Edith's? (At the time I was spending the night with an elderly neighbor)
7. Account for the time you spent today. What did you get done?
8. Was there anything else you should have gotten done?
9. Was there anything you did that you shouldn't have done? (In other words, did you waste any time?)
I did this faithfully for an entire month, and I was trying really, really hard to improve. In my mind's eye, I saw a graph of my bed times and waking up times, with a gently descending line that settled on a sensible bedtime and arising time and then fixed there for the rest of the month. My goal was to go to bed at 10 and get up at 6.
When the month was over, I plotted my actual points on a graph in my journal. Here is the graph.
Here is the second month's chart.
So that skirmish left me pretty much where I was before. Many more skirmishes were to come.
Next Post: Get Up Early: Skirmish #2
Previous Post: Learn to Pray
First Post: Tutored under the Master Professor
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Learn to Pray
Oh, prayer is a hard one. I had so many ups and downs with this. I still have so far to go. But I can look back and see that I've learned a few lessons, which I will share here.
The flesh does not like to pray, but the Spirit does. In order to pray effectively, I must be walking in the Spirit. Never mind what the flesh wants. It's supposed to die anyway.
The point is not to "say prayers," the point is to connect with God. Be still on Him and wait on Him until you have truly visited the throne room and conversed with the King of Kings.
One of my biggest hindrances to prayer was a line of reasoning something like this: "I'm not successful at prayer, so prayer doesn't do any good, so why bother to do it at all?" But this reasoning is first faithless, and second inaccurate. The Bible says our prayers DO do good. By the way, we are commanded to pray, so the "Why bother" comment is invalidated just by that alone.
Another big hindrance to prayer was this line of reasoning: "God is going to do whatever he wants. Things will be the same if I pray as they will be if I don't pray, so why bother?" God taught me big time that this is not true. Whenever I prayed, things happened! Whenever I didn't pray, things didn't happen. It was almost as if God was deliberately withholding the answer until I asked. An illustration of this helped me to understand. I work in a preschool, and it is important to teach the kids to use language, so if they point at something and go "uuuh," we know perfectly clearly what they are asking for, but we say, "Use your words," and wait to give it to them until they ask. Also--it's free to pray, and you just might get what you ask God for, so you really have nothing to lose if you pray; you can only stand to gain.
I learned that body position had a great deal to do with whether or not I would get very far in prayer. Lying in bed, it only took about 3 minutes of prayer to put me to sleep. Kneeling beside the bed, I got a little farther, but pretty soon my head would be pillowed peacefully on my arms and I would be asleep, only to wake up an hour later feeling very stiff and uncomfortable. Standing up--Ah! There's a sleep prevention technique! So at different times I have had to give myself a rule that I have to stand up and not so much as touch my bed. It wards off sleepiness, all right!
Probably my biggest hindrance to prayer was a wandering mind. If I "think" my prayers, it's only a minute before my mind is zinging all over the place into random thoughts that have nothing to do with prayer. Before two sentences are out, I have already forgotten I was praying. Then I catch myself five minutes later thinking about, say, a kayak going down a waterfall, and I realize, "Oops! I was praying! Let me get back to that. Where was I?" I resume my prayers, say a sentence or two, and again, my mind is off in another direction and I have forgotten I was even praying. Do you know how frustrating and prayer killing it is for this to happen over and over again, every two sentences, every day of your life? So two solutions have saved me. One is praying out loud. However, in our small house, it is difficult to have the privacy to do this, so I often take prayer walks, where I can pour out my heart to the Lord in verbalized prayer. Solution two: Write my prayers and enjoy the ability to have silent prayer AND instant focus. An hour of prayer suddenly becomes easy when I'm writing. Of course, I can write slower than I can think, so I can't say as much in an hour as I probably could if I was praying silently, but given that my silent prayer is interrupted by a million random intrusions and I give up after about five minutes, I know I'm getting a lot farther with the written version.
So prayer is coming along. Not perfect yet, but getting somewhere.
Next Post: Get up Early: My Custer's Last Stand
Previous Post: Depend on God
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
The flesh does not like to pray, but the Spirit does. In order to pray effectively, I must be walking in the Spirit. Never mind what the flesh wants. It's supposed to die anyway.
The point is not to "say prayers," the point is to connect with God. Be still on Him and wait on Him until you have truly visited the throne room and conversed with the King of Kings.
One of my biggest hindrances to prayer was a line of reasoning something like this: "I'm not successful at prayer, so prayer doesn't do any good, so why bother to do it at all?" But this reasoning is first faithless, and second inaccurate. The Bible says our prayers DO do good. By the way, we are commanded to pray, so the "Why bother" comment is invalidated just by that alone.
Another big hindrance to prayer was this line of reasoning: "God is going to do whatever he wants. Things will be the same if I pray as they will be if I don't pray, so why bother?" God taught me big time that this is not true. Whenever I prayed, things happened! Whenever I didn't pray, things didn't happen. It was almost as if God was deliberately withholding the answer until I asked. An illustration of this helped me to understand. I work in a preschool, and it is important to teach the kids to use language, so if they point at something and go "uuuh," we know perfectly clearly what they are asking for, but we say, "Use your words," and wait to give it to them until they ask. Also--it's free to pray, and you just might get what you ask God for, so you really have nothing to lose if you pray; you can only stand to gain.
I learned that body position had a great deal to do with whether or not I would get very far in prayer. Lying in bed, it only took about 3 minutes of prayer to put me to sleep. Kneeling beside the bed, I got a little farther, but pretty soon my head would be pillowed peacefully on my arms and I would be asleep, only to wake up an hour later feeling very stiff and uncomfortable. Standing up--Ah! There's a sleep prevention technique! So at different times I have had to give myself a rule that I have to stand up and not so much as touch my bed. It wards off sleepiness, all right!
Probably my biggest hindrance to prayer was a wandering mind. If I "think" my prayers, it's only a minute before my mind is zinging all over the place into random thoughts that have nothing to do with prayer. Before two sentences are out, I have already forgotten I was praying. Then I catch myself five minutes later thinking about, say, a kayak going down a waterfall, and I realize, "Oops! I was praying! Let me get back to that. Where was I?" I resume my prayers, say a sentence or two, and again, my mind is off in another direction and I have forgotten I was even praying. Do you know how frustrating and prayer killing it is for this to happen over and over again, every two sentences, every day of your life? So two solutions have saved me. One is praying out loud. However, in our small house, it is difficult to have the privacy to do this, so I often take prayer walks, where I can pour out my heart to the Lord in verbalized prayer. Solution two: Write my prayers and enjoy the ability to have silent prayer AND instant focus. An hour of prayer suddenly becomes easy when I'm writing. Of course, I can write slower than I can think, so I can't say as much in an hour as I probably could if I was praying silently, but given that my silent prayer is interrupted by a million random intrusions and I give up after about five minutes, I know I'm getting a lot farther with the written version.
So prayer is coming along. Not perfect yet, but getting somewhere.
Next Post: Get up Early: My Custer's Last Stand
Previous Post: Depend on God
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Monday, February 21, 2011
Valentine's party
Today I had several girls over to my house for a Valentine's party, complete with chocolate cake, roses, and of course, conversation hearts. (By the way--yuck! they've changed the recipe for those things and...bleck.)
The purpose of the party was to express to them the love of Jesus and ignite their hearts with a love for Him. The Lord really helped me to do that as I talked to them. I could see them listening intently, they got quiet, and one of them told me afterward she appreciated it.
We also got to do lots of other fun stuff, like go outside to see the chickens, feed grass to our neighbor's horses, swing on our backyard swing, and decorate heart-shaped sachets, which we then filled with potpourri.
Tomorrow I'll try to get back to our regular story! But I just had to break in here with a little current news flash. :-)
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Depend on God
These three pursuits, depend on God, pray, and do my devotions early, all occurred simultaneously, yet seemed distinct at the time I was going through them. Therefore, rather than treating all three together and progressing chronologically, I'm going to treat each one individually in order to bring out the facets that stood out from each one. So forgive me if we jump around in time a bit in the next few posts.
As I said, I was willing to learn to depend on God. Willing, but clueless.
So I said, "God, it sure would help if I could at least come to feel like I needed to depend on you." And God happily obliged me by introducing a set of circumstances into my life that were designed to be above my capabilities, outside the range of possibility for me, more difficult than I could handle.
Hel-LO, trials!
"Humph," I thought. "I didn't mean to ask for that."
It started out pretty mild. Things like being uncommonly annoyed at doing the dishes, and having to depend on God for the cheerfulness that I had always taken for granted. When I asked for cheerfulness, I would receive it, but before, it had always been automatically dispensed. Therefore, I had taken the credit for my habitual good humor to myself. I didn't realize how many ways God supplied me with blessings!
Things went along and I have to admit I almost forgot I was supposed to be working on this area of dependence on God. But every so often, a situation would crop up that was beyond me, and I would remember, and try to be a good, docile learner, and get better at this whole dependence thing.
Then came a job opportunity, and I took it without thinking. I was already working two other jobs, but I needed some extra money, and this seemed perfect. However, I didn't consult God about it. I just took it.
The day I was driving in the car to my first day on the job, the Lord convicted me about it. "You didn't find out if this was my will or not, did you? In fact, you didn't even consult me. You didn't wait on me. This was not what I asked you to do, was it?"
I had to admit, "No, it wasn't."
And that job, which was supposed to be a simple, quick project of four months, stretched into seven months of spectacular failure, in which I blew deadlines, frustrated my boss, and fell behind at every step of the way. It wasn't for lack of trying. It wasn't even for lack of aptitude for the position. It was simply and purely a personal fault: I couldn't produce the self-discipline necessary to actually put in working hours and work on the project.
It was around this time that I came to a certain realization: "Me trying is the same as me not trying." It happened this way: All throughout my life, I knew there were certain things I did well (piano, spelling, crochet, etc.) and certain things I did not do so well (swimming, being organized, staying focused, etc.). However, with anything I did not do very well, I always comforted myself by saying, "Well, you're not really trying. If you ever once tried, you would be as good as anyone else at it."
Three specific cases disrupted this idea. First, at work they had a weight-loss contest. Everyone would get weighed once a month for four or five months, and whoever lost the greatest percentage of their body weight would win an ipod or a wii. So I decided to join them. I could afford to lose 15-18 pounds, according to my body mass index, and for the first time in my life, I started to try to lose weight. Always before, I had stayed pretty constantly trim without trying. Well, my weight at the end of the contest was only one pound less than my weight at the beginning, and that was only because I had happened to skip breakfast that morning. So much for trying to lose weight. Me trying (to lose weight) was the same as me not trying.
Second, I stared an accountability sheet where for a month, I would record my bedtime and my waking up time. The idea was to try to get to bed earlier and wake up earlier, and see progress over time. Ha. At the end of the month, the only thing my chart showed was chaos. So I tried another month. Perhaps this time, the graph would show steady improvement and progress. Nope. I was all over the map. So much for trying to dictate to myself my bedtime. Me trying (to get up early) was the same as me not trying.
Third, I encountered the above-described difficulties in my job. I tried, and tried and tried and tried and tried and tried. Oh, how I pushed! Oh, how I tried to govern myself! Oh, how I tried rewards and punishments. Nothing worked. I continued on in the same rut of failure for all seven months. Me trying (to make myself work) was the same as me not trying.
It was this that got me thinking. "In my flesh, I really can't do anything by myself. If God doesn't come through for me, I'm sunk." (Remember what I had asked God earlier? How I had wanted to feel like I was dependent? He got me there all right! I just didn't know how painful it would be.)
I also did a word study in Scripture on the word nothing.
John 15:4 Jesus said, "Without me, ye can do nothing."
Gal 6:3 If a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.
John 6:63 The flesh profiteth nothing.
1 Co. 9:16 I have nothing to glory of.
John 3:27 A man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven.
John 5:30 I can of mine own self do nothing.
John 11:49 Ye know nothing at all.
1 Tim 6:7 For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.
It hit me for the first time in my life that I am nothing. Apart from God, I can do nothing. God is the great everything. And only as far as I am found in Him and receive things from Him will I ever do anything.
NOW I was on the way to true dependence on God.
Next Post: Learn to Pray
Previous Post: A Triple Milestone in Sight
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
As I said, I was willing to learn to depend on God. Willing, but clueless.
So I said, "God, it sure would help if I could at least come to feel like I needed to depend on you." And God happily obliged me by introducing a set of circumstances into my life that were designed to be above my capabilities, outside the range of possibility for me, more difficult than I could handle.
Hel-LO, trials!
"Humph," I thought. "I didn't mean to ask for that."
It started out pretty mild. Things like being uncommonly annoyed at doing the dishes, and having to depend on God for the cheerfulness that I had always taken for granted. When I asked for cheerfulness, I would receive it, but before, it had always been automatically dispensed. Therefore, I had taken the credit for my habitual good humor to myself. I didn't realize how many ways God supplied me with blessings!
Things went along and I have to admit I almost forgot I was supposed to be working on this area of dependence on God. But every so often, a situation would crop up that was beyond me, and I would remember, and try to be a good, docile learner, and get better at this whole dependence thing.
Then came a job opportunity, and I took it without thinking. I was already working two other jobs, but I needed some extra money, and this seemed perfect. However, I didn't consult God about it. I just took it.
The day I was driving in the car to my first day on the job, the Lord convicted me about it. "You didn't find out if this was my will or not, did you? In fact, you didn't even consult me. You didn't wait on me. This was not what I asked you to do, was it?"
I had to admit, "No, it wasn't."
And that job, which was supposed to be a simple, quick project of four months, stretched into seven months of spectacular failure, in which I blew deadlines, frustrated my boss, and fell behind at every step of the way. It wasn't for lack of trying. It wasn't even for lack of aptitude for the position. It was simply and purely a personal fault: I couldn't produce the self-discipline necessary to actually put in working hours and work on the project.
It was around this time that I came to a certain realization: "Me trying is the same as me not trying." It happened this way: All throughout my life, I knew there were certain things I did well (piano, spelling, crochet, etc.) and certain things I did not do so well (swimming, being organized, staying focused, etc.). However, with anything I did not do very well, I always comforted myself by saying, "Well, you're not really trying. If you ever once tried, you would be as good as anyone else at it."
Three specific cases disrupted this idea. First, at work they had a weight-loss contest. Everyone would get weighed once a month for four or five months, and whoever lost the greatest percentage of their body weight would win an ipod or a wii. So I decided to join them. I could afford to lose 15-18 pounds, according to my body mass index, and for the first time in my life, I started to try to lose weight. Always before, I had stayed pretty constantly trim without trying. Well, my weight at the end of the contest was only one pound less than my weight at the beginning, and that was only because I had happened to skip breakfast that morning. So much for trying to lose weight. Me trying (to lose weight) was the same as me not trying.
Second, I stared an accountability sheet where for a month, I would record my bedtime and my waking up time. The idea was to try to get to bed earlier and wake up earlier, and see progress over time. Ha. At the end of the month, the only thing my chart showed was chaos. So I tried another month. Perhaps this time, the graph would show steady improvement and progress. Nope. I was all over the map. So much for trying to dictate to myself my bedtime. Me trying (to get up early) was the same as me not trying.
Third, I encountered the above-described difficulties in my job. I tried, and tried and tried and tried and tried and tried. Oh, how I pushed! Oh, how I tried to govern myself! Oh, how I tried rewards and punishments. Nothing worked. I continued on in the same rut of failure for all seven months. Me trying (to make myself work) was the same as me not trying.
It was this that got me thinking. "In my flesh, I really can't do anything by myself. If God doesn't come through for me, I'm sunk." (Remember what I had asked God earlier? How I had wanted to feel like I was dependent? He got me there all right! I just didn't know how painful it would be.)
I also did a word study in Scripture on the word nothing.
John 15:4 Jesus said, "Without me, ye can do nothing."
Gal 6:3 If a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.
John 6:63 The flesh profiteth nothing.
1 Co. 9:16 I have nothing to glory of.
John 3:27 A man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven.
John 5:30 I can of mine own self do nothing.
John 11:49 Ye know nothing at all.
1 Tim 6:7 For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.
It hit me for the first time in my life that I am nothing. Apart from God, I can do nothing. God is the great everything. And only as far as I am found in Him and receive things from Him will I ever do anything.
NOW I was on the way to true dependence on God.
Next Post: Learn to Pray
Previous Post: A Triple Milestone in Sight
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Friday, February 18, 2011
A Triple Milestone in Sight
After spending about a year to learn how to open up my mouth and speak, God sent me on another quest which would take at least a year. This time, it was really a three-fold assignment that would all relate to one common theme, though I wouldn't see how all three tied together until later.
First, depend on God. Learn to rely solely on Him. Don't live as though I were an independent, autonomous creature, but instead, one that needs God for every breath, every step, every day of my life.
Second, learn to pray. Not just "say prayers," but pray, mighty, faith-filled prayers that connect with God.
Third, put God first in my day by doing my devotions in the morning.
The first assignment, Depend on God, I accepted unquestioningly. "Sure, God. I'll be glad to depend on you. I don't really know how, but I'll be glad to try." I then proceeded to try to work up some good "dependent" feelings. (Haha... must've made God laugh.) Overall, I realized that for all practical purposes, I lived without reference to God, existing without consulting him or feeling that I needed to consult him. I had my own ideas, made my own plans, and went through the day by myself. It didn't enter my head to depend on God most of the time. Of course, if I was embarking on a major step or had a weighty decision before me, I would pray "for direction," but even that was sort of a token gesture.
The second assignment, Pray, was somewhat more difficult. The truth is, I didn't really like to pray. I wasn't good at prayer. My mind always wandered. But I knew it was a good thing to do, and I knew I would need to do it sooner or later, and I had been meaning to study it anyway, so I accepted the assignment.
The third assignment involved getting up early. And that meant sacrificing sleep. Now, I love sleep. I don't think you understand. I LOVE sleep. Wait, I don't think you get it. I really, really love sleep. At sleepover parties when I was a kid, while all the other little girls were talking and giggling and watching movies into the wee hours of the morning, I happily snuggled down in my sleeping bag at 9:00, wondering how they could possibly make such a sacrifice for each other's sake to stay up so late. I, at any rate, was going to enjoy myself at this party, and that meant going to sleep. Sleep, for me, was (still is!) the ultimate indulgence. Therefore, my entire being revolted from this assignment with everything that was in me. And oh, what a battle raged!
The Master Professor, however, remained unperturbed. He knew how to teach me the right lessons in the right order. His teaching techniques were absolutely effective. He had infinite resources at his disposal. He was sure of His own success with his pupil, though I was not at all sure of it.
Next post: Depend on God
Previous post: One Milestone Reached
First post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
First, depend on God. Learn to rely solely on Him. Don't live as though I were an independent, autonomous creature, but instead, one that needs God for every breath, every step, every day of my life.
Second, learn to pray. Not just "say prayers," but pray, mighty, faith-filled prayers that connect with God.
Third, put God first in my day by doing my devotions in the morning.
The first assignment, Depend on God, I accepted unquestioningly. "Sure, God. I'll be glad to depend on you. I don't really know how, but I'll be glad to try." I then proceeded to try to work up some good "dependent" feelings. (Haha... must've made God laugh.) Overall, I realized that for all practical purposes, I lived without reference to God, existing without consulting him or feeling that I needed to consult him. I had my own ideas, made my own plans, and went through the day by myself. It didn't enter my head to depend on God most of the time. Of course, if I was embarking on a major step or had a weighty decision before me, I would pray "for direction," but even that was sort of a token gesture.
The second assignment, Pray, was somewhat more difficult. The truth is, I didn't really like to pray. I wasn't good at prayer. My mind always wandered. But I knew it was a good thing to do, and I knew I would need to do it sooner or later, and I had been meaning to study it anyway, so I accepted the assignment.
The third assignment involved getting up early. And that meant sacrificing sleep. Now, I love sleep. I don't think you understand. I LOVE sleep. Wait, I don't think you get it. I really, really love sleep. At sleepover parties when I was a kid, while all the other little girls were talking and giggling and watching movies into the wee hours of the morning, I happily snuggled down in my sleeping bag at 9:00, wondering how they could possibly make such a sacrifice for each other's sake to stay up so late. I, at any rate, was going to enjoy myself at this party, and that meant going to sleep. Sleep, for me, was (still is!) the ultimate indulgence. Therefore, my entire being revolted from this assignment with everything that was in me. And oh, what a battle raged!
The Master Professor, however, remained unperturbed. He knew how to teach me the right lessons in the right order. His teaching techniques were absolutely effective. He had infinite resources at his disposal. He was sure of His own success with his pupil, though I was not at all sure of it.
Next post: Depend on God
Previous post: One Milestone Reached
First post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Thursday, February 17, 2011
One milestone reached
So God had me where I was obediently witnessing. It was great! I knew it was a huge milestone. It was also a shocking, sobering realization to look back on my previous condition and realize, "Wow! I could never have been a missionary without learning this! Thank you, God, for teaching me that."
I wrote extensively in my journal about the lessons I had learned, started a girl's Bible Study on the theme of "Open Up Your Mouth and Speak," and prepared a document containing the essential message I had learned. I excitedly started witnessing! Whereas in 2008, I had only led three people to Christ, in 2009, I had the privilege of praying with 18 people who wished to receive Christ.
The Master Professor had elegantly and skillfully achieved his goal. He is the type of teacher who never gives up until learning actually takes place. He is also the kind of teacher who moves His pupil right along to the next lesson as soon as the first has been mastered.
Learning to open up my mouth and speak was hard. The new lessons that replaced that one were harder. But these, too, would eventually lead to me looking back and saying, "Wow! I could never have been a missionary without learning this!"
Next Post: A Triple Milestone in Sight
Previous Post: Torn Apart by My Own Perverseness
First Post: Tutored under the Master Professor
I wrote extensively in my journal about the lessons I had learned, started a girl's Bible Study on the theme of "Open Up Your Mouth and Speak," and prepared a document containing the essential message I had learned. I excitedly started witnessing! Whereas in 2008, I had only led three people to Christ, in 2009, I had the privilege of praying with 18 people who wished to receive Christ.
The Master Professor had elegantly and skillfully achieved his goal. He is the type of teacher who never gives up until learning actually takes place. He is also the kind of teacher who moves His pupil right along to the next lesson as soon as the first has been mastered.
Learning to open up my mouth and speak was hard. The new lessons that replaced that one were harder. But these, too, would eventually lead to me looking back and saying, "Wow! I could never have been a missionary without learning this!"
Next Post: A Triple Milestone in Sight
Previous Post: Torn Apart by My Own Perverseness
First Post: Tutored under the Master Professor
This is my first post
I have been wanting to do this, and a day off work gives me the perfect excuse to start.
May the Lord Jesus Christ be honored here.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Torn Apart By My Own Perverseness
Looking back, it's curious to view that phone call with my piano teacher. In one sense, it marked a turning point for the better. That victory began a gradual process that resulted in subsequent witnessing opportunities becoming easier. I had less and less fear until I was able to open up my mouth and speak without a struggle, without a flutter, mentioning the truths of the gospel message just as naturally as I would bring up any other conversation topic.
But that achievement came at a great price.
God was very patient with me through all this.
In the midst of it all, however, I was still largely living by the flesh and not walking by faith, and therefore I was not finding the strength to obey, because I was looking to myself for it rather than accessing grace, which is the only thing that can actually empower obedience. Therefore, I experienced a lot of conflicting emotions, and all the sweet richness of love that I had experienced with my Savior seemed like it was threatening to evaporate as a consequence of my disobedience.
A pang of dread shot through my heart as the warmth and passion and delight of the love in my heart started to fade. The thought of losing the sweetest love in the world suddenly made me realize how much it meant to me. Oh, take out my eyes, destroy all my possessions, and leave me hungry every day--but don't take that! I prayed internally. But even this was not motivation enough to make the flesh do what the flesh did not want to do, because the flesh cannot and will not please God.
A few days later, I flunked yet another opportunity. I was afraid that I wouldn't get another opportunity. I figured that if I didn't ever obey, I would just be left to my own devices and live a miserable, mediocre life. I believe that a lot of the condemnation I was experiencing at this time was coming from the enemy, who kicks a person when they're down. "You're not worthy of God's love. Why should He continue to work with you?" The worst part about it was that he attributed these types of statements to God, and I took the bait and believed I was hearing from God.
But God, who is faithful, merciful, and patient, ultimately triumphed.
Then he gave me another, and I witnessed again.
And again.
And along the way, a few more failures crept back in, but FINALLY, the pattern was changing.
Finally, I have some obedience in my life in this area. Thus the Lord saw me safely through the crisis until He saw His will formed in me. But the Master Professor was far from finished with His pupil.
But that achievement came at a great price.
You see, every time I would be prompted to witness, I still refused to obey. It was a persistent, steadfast rebellion that trumped all my best pep talks and all my good intentions. I was in a cycle: I prayed for souls and desired them to be saved, I was faced with a witnessing opportunity and turned it down, and then I was filled with remorse and vowed to actually witness the next time.
God was very patient with me through all this.
In the midst of it all, however, I was still largely living by the flesh and not walking by faith, and therefore I was not finding the strength to obey, because I was looking to myself for it rather than accessing grace, which is the only thing that can actually empower obedience. Therefore, I experienced a lot of conflicting emotions, and all the sweet richness of love that I had experienced with my Savior seemed like it was threatening to evaporate as a consequence of my disobedience.
A pang of dread shot through my heart as the warmth and passion and delight of the love in my heart started to fade. The thought of losing the sweetest love in the world suddenly made me realize how much it meant to me. Oh, take out my eyes, destroy all my possessions, and leave me hungry every day--but don't take that! I prayed internally. But even this was not motivation enough to make the flesh do what the flesh did not want to do, because the flesh cannot and will not please God.
The next few witnessing opportunities came along, and I failed them. Flunked them. Kept quiet. Didn't obey God. And in the same measure, I began to lose that delightful, romantic, adventurous LOVE that I had experienced for the past few months. "Noooooooooo," I thought. "Why am I doing this?" And yet there the facts stood. I was not loving God, but He continued to love me.
A few days later, I flunked yet another opportunity. I was afraid that I wouldn't get another opportunity. I figured that if I didn't ever obey, I would just be left to my own devices and live a miserable, mediocre life. I believe that a lot of the condemnation I was experiencing at this time was coming from the enemy, who kicks a person when they're down. "You're not worthy of God's love. Why should He continue to work with you?" The worst part about it was that he attributed these types of statements to God, and I took the bait and believed I was hearing from God.
But God, who is faithful, merciful, and patient, ultimately triumphed.
He gave me another opportunity, and gave me the strength to witness.
Then he gave me another, and I witnessed again.
And again.
And along the way, a few more failures crept back in, but FINALLY, the pattern was changing.
Finally, I have some obedience in my life in this area. Thus the Lord saw me safely through the crisis until He saw His will formed in me. But the Master Professor was far from finished with His pupil.
Keep Reading: One Milestone Reached
Previous Post: Jump Off A Cliff
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Jump Off A Cliff
Real life always jolts me out of the dream worlds I create for myself. In my dream world, I am the perfect witness, always going about the Lord's business and always saying just the right thing at the right time.
So I was driving along the highway, heading home from a road trip, and it was just me and the Lord. I was disappointed in myself, because that weekend, I had met with my former piano teacher with the express purpose of giving her the gospel, and I had kept my mouth shut. I KNEW that God had opened the doors for the encounter to take place, and I KNEW that I was supposed to witness to her. In an hour-long conversation, I never once brought up the real issue. I skirted it and evaded it, waiting for "the right moment," telling myself it just "wasn't right yet," and saying, "Just a little more small talk." And then it was time to go, and it was too late.
I was kicking myself. All my pep talks to myself had done no good. I could have had this glorious testimony of how I opened up my mouth to speak, and now I didn't even know when I would see her again. We lived 13 hours apart. Why had I blown it? I was so discouraged I wanted to cry. I felt like God would never be able to use me. With this track record, I thought I would probably never speak up. Going into the meeting with her, I had prayed so hard and wanted it so hard. The fact that I didn't speak made me doubt whether I ever would, since I couldn’t imagine praying harder or desiring more strongly that souls would be saved. Afterwards, the Lord prompted me to call her up and say it on the phone, but I repressed that feeling, too.
All this was going through my mind as my rental car skimmed along the highway. The Lord brought into my mind a picture, a memory, of a day when I was about 12 and we went to a place we called "The Pools." It was a beautiful mountain stream that spilled from one deep, round pool to another. You could slide down little waterfalls into the pools or jump off a high rock into the biggest pool. My 12-year-old self was a little afraid to jump off the rock, but my cousin did it so many times and obviously enjoyed herself so much that I finally worked up the courage to do it. I walked up to the edge and was ready to jump, but I lost my nerve. I backed up and tried again, but stopped myself again at the last moment. I returned to the "safe ground" and felt better, regained my courage, and tried again. When I finally jumped, the feeling was so exhilarating that I burst up out of the water with a shout of pure delight, and then I did it over and over again.
Jumping off the rock is like picking up the phone and calling your piano teacher, the Lord whispered to me.
"Ohhhh!" I thought. The wheels of my mind started turning and things started clicking. "What I really wanted to do was speak to her," I thought. "Soulwinning is the thing above all others that I really want to begin to do. But just like I wanted to jump off the rock and didn't at first, something is keeping me back from soulwinning. What is it, Lord? What gives? I don't think it's fear. I don't think I'm afraid to witness. I know how to share the gospel. I'm not afraid I won't know what to say. So what is keeping me from it?"
And in his most excellent teaching style, perfectly suited and tailored to individual little me, he proposed an exercise which would reveal the answer.
"Ask yourself this question," he proposed. "Ask yourself, 'Would I pick up the phone and call her right now?'"
I asked myself the question, phone in hand. Immediately, an excuse came into my mind. "I don't have free cell phone minutes right now, so it's not a good time."
"Now," the Lord guided me, "weigh that excuse in the balance. Weigh the pennies it will cost you to make the phone call against the value of her eternal soul."
"Oh." I thought. "Right. What will the phone call cost? Not even close to five dollars. So that excuse goes out the window."
"Ask yourself again," the Lord said.
"Okay. The question remains before me. Would I pick up the phone and call my teacher?" Immediately, an excuse came to my mind. "You're driving, and it's not a good idea to talk on the phone while you're driving. Besides, you don't even know if it's legal to drive and talk on the phone in this state."
I weighed that excuse in the balance. I had already talked to Mom twice on the phone. I simply put it on speakerphone on my lap and had no inconvenience at all. I also knew that if the phone rang again, I would not hesitate to answer it and talk to whoever called. So that excuse had to go out the window, too.
Now, Rebekah," I said to myself, "The question still stands. Would you pick up the phone and call your teacher right now?" Immediately, an excuse came to my mind. "She might not pick up."
"Rebekah!" I scolded myself. "It’s shameful how instantly you come up with excuses. I think this one must be the stupidest of all. If she doesn't pick up, then it lets you off the hook from having to talk to her, so what's the point of making an excuse that would accomplish the same objective?" And I tossed that excuse out the window.
"The question, therefore, still stands before you, weightier than ever. Will you call your teacher right now?" Immediately, an excuse came to mind. "She might not listen."
"Notice," I exclaimed to myself, "How readily you come up with excuses! Immediately they spring to your mind. Now this one doesn't even merit much consideration. Long ago I had it settled that there is no such thing as speaking the gospel in vain. Whether she listens is not the point. The point is, WILL YOU call her?"
This process went on for probably 6 or 7 excuses, all of which turned out to be stupid, false fronts, smoke screens, or bluffs. Finally, the excuses stopped coming. I even hunted around for another excuse and couldn't find one. (The scary thing is, up until that day, a single one of those excuses would have sufficed to defeat me. I would have simply accepted it as a good reason without any evaluation at all.)
When the flow of excuses stopped, I faced a sobering reality. "Rebekah, will you call your teacher? Because if the answer is no, you’ll have to face up to the fact that it stems exclusively from fear. You are afraid to do it."
Now, you have to understand my background regarding fear. I prided myself on being fearless. I considered it as repulsive and despicable to be afraid, and "fear" was practically a dirty word in my vocabulary, (except for fear of God, which I allowed). As a kid, I would rack my brain to try to think of anything I was afraid of, and come up empty, and that made me glad. So here, to admit to fear in myself was unthinkable. I could not be afraid—I must prove I was unafraid. Therefore, I had to answer yes, that I would call her. God had cleverly trapped me. He did it so deftly, so elegantly. He had me exactly where he wanted me by playing on his intimate knowledge of me.
Okay, get a grip, Rebekah. You’re going to call her, I thought. It was like walking right up to the edge of that rock at the pools and planning to jump. Suddenly, I was breathing hard, my heart was beating faster, my legs were trembling, my mind was racing. (Wow, I really am afraid, I realized.) I cried out to God for His help. I called on Him for His aid, His strength, words to say to her, calmness in my voice. As I prayed, I started to cry, tears of anguish and love for the state of my piano teacher's soul. And then, when I had finished praying, I took a deep breath, calmly opened my phone, and dialed her number. It rang one, two, three, four, five times. Then the answering machine picked up. I hung up without leaving a message.
I went through all that agony, just to do that. It really wasn’t that hard. And after I was off the phone, even though I hadn't even talked to her, I was filled with overwhelming, amazing joy. I was laughing, crying with joy at the fact that I had been victorious through the power of God. I was thanking God for his good work, for helping me, for guiding me. I was so elated. It was just like the jubilation I experienced after I faced the rock and jumped off into the water.
That experience marked a turning point in my journey—for better—and for worse.
So I was driving along the highway, heading home from a road trip, and it was just me and the Lord. I was disappointed in myself, because that weekend, I had met with my former piano teacher with the express purpose of giving her the gospel, and I had kept my mouth shut. I KNEW that God had opened the doors for the encounter to take place, and I KNEW that I was supposed to witness to her. In an hour-long conversation, I never once brought up the real issue. I skirted it and evaded it, waiting for "the right moment," telling myself it just "wasn't right yet," and saying, "Just a little more small talk." And then it was time to go, and it was too late.
I was kicking myself. All my pep talks to myself had done no good. I could have had this glorious testimony of how I opened up my mouth to speak, and now I didn't even know when I would see her again. We lived 13 hours apart. Why had I blown it? I was so discouraged I wanted to cry. I felt like God would never be able to use me. With this track record, I thought I would probably never speak up. Going into the meeting with her, I had prayed so hard and wanted it so hard. The fact that I didn't speak made me doubt whether I ever would, since I couldn’t imagine praying harder or desiring more strongly that souls would be saved. Afterwards, the Lord prompted me to call her up and say it on the phone, but I repressed that feeling, too.
All this was going through my mind as my rental car skimmed along the highway. The Lord brought into my mind a picture, a memory, of a day when I was about 12 and we went to a place we called "The Pools." It was a beautiful mountain stream that spilled from one deep, round pool to another. You could slide down little waterfalls into the pools or jump off a high rock into the biggest pool. My 12-year-old self was a little afraid to jump off the rock, but my cousin did it so many times and obviously enjoyed herself so much that I finally worked up the courage to do it. I walked up to the edge and was ready to jump, but I lost my nerve. I backed up and tried again, but stopped myself again at the last moment. I returned to the "safe ground" and felt better, regained my courage, and tried again. When I finally jumped, the feeling was so exhilarating that I burst up out of the water with a shout of pure delight, and then I did it over and over again.
Jumping off the rock is like picking up the phone and calling your piano teacher, the Lord whispered to me.
"Ohhhh!" I thought. The wheels of my mind started turning and things started clicking. "What I really wanted to do was speak to her," I thought. "Soulwinning is the thing above all others that I really want to begin to do. But just like I wanted to jump off the rock and didn't at first, something is keeping me back from soulwinning. What is it, Lord? What gives? I don't think it's fear. I don't think I'm afraid to witness. I know how to share the gospel. I'm not afraid I won't know what to say. So what is keeping me from it?"
And in his most excellent teaching style, perfectly suited and tailored to individual little me, he proposed an exercise which would reveal the answer.
"Ask yourself this question," he proposed. "Ask yourself, 'Would I pick up the phone and call her right now?'"
I asked myself the question, phone in hand. Immediately, an excuse came into my mind. "I don't have free cell phone minutes right now, so it's not a good time."
"Now," the Lord guided me, "weigh that excuse in the balance. Weigh the pennies it will cost you to make the phone call against the value of her eternal soul."
"Oh." I thought. "Right. What will the phone call cost? Not even close to five dollars. So that excuse goes out the window."
"Ask yourself again," the Lord said.
"Okay. The question remains before me. Would I pick up the phone and call my teacher?" Immediately, an excuse came to my mind. "You're driving, and it's not a good idea to talk on the phone while you're driving. Besides, you don't even know if it's legal to drive and talk on the phone in this state."
I weighed that excuse in the balance. I had already talked to Mom twice on the phone. I simply put it on speakerphone on my lap and had no inconvenience at all. I also knew that if the phone rang again, I would not hesitate to answer it and talk to whoever called. So that excuse had to go out the window, too.
Now, Rebekah," I said to myself, "The question still stands. Would you pick up the phone and call your teacher right now?" Immediately, an excuse came to my mind. "She might not pick up."
"Rebekah!" I scolded myself. "It’s shameful how instantly you come up with excuses. I think this one must be the stupidest of all. If she doesn't pick up, then it lets you off the hook from having to talk to her, so what's the point of making an excuse that would accomplish the same objective?" And I tossed that excuse out the window.
"The question, therefore, still stands before you, weightier than ever. Will you call your teacher right now?" Immediately, an excuse came to mind. "She might not listen."
"Notice," I exclaimed to myself, "How readily you come up with excuses! Immediately they spring to your mind. Now this one doesn't even merit much consideration. Long ago I had it settled that there is no such thing as speaking the gospel in vain. Whether she listens is not the point. The point is, WILL YOU call her?"
This process went on for probably 6 or 7 excuses, all of which turned out to be stupid, false fronts, smoke screens, or bluffs. Finally, the excuses stopped coming. I even hunted around for another excuse and couldn't find one. (The scary thing is, up until that day, a single one of those excuses would have sufficed to defeat me. I would have simply accepted it as a good reason without any evaluation at all.)
When the flow of excuses stopped, I faced a sobering reality. "Rebekah, will you call your teacher? Because if the answer is no, you’ll have to face up to the fact that it stems exclusively from fear. You are afraid to do it."
Now, you have to understand my background regarding fear. I prided myself on being fearless. I considered it as repulsive and despicable to be afraid, and "fear" was practically a dirty word in my vocabulary, (except for fear of God, which I allowed). As a kid, I would rack my brain to try to think of anything I was afraid of, and come up empty, and that made me glad. So here, to admit to fear in myself was unthinkable. I could not be afraid—I must prove I was unafraid. Therefore, I had to answer yes, that I would call her. God had cleverly trapped me. He did it so deftly, so elegantly. He had me exactly where he wanted me by playing on his intimate knowledge of me.
Okay, get a grip, Rebekah. You’re going to call her, I thought. It was like walking right up to the edge of that rock at the pools and planning to jump. Suddenly, I was breathing hard, my heart was beating faster, my legs were trembling, my mind was racing. (Wow, I really am afraid, I realized.) I cried out to God for His help. I called on Him for His aid, His strength, words to say to her, calmness in my voice. As I prayed, I started to cry, tears of anguish and love for the state of my piano teacher's soul. And then, when I had finished praying, I took a deep breath, calmly opened my phone, and dialed her number. It rang one, two, three, four, five times. Then the answering machine picked up. I hung up without leaving a message.
I went through all that agony, just to do that. It really wasn’t that hard. And after I was off the phone, even though I hadn't even talked to her, I was filled with overwhelming, amazing joy. I was laughing, crying with joy at the fact that I had been victorious through the power of God. I was thanking God for his good work, for helping me, for guiding me. I was so elated. It was just like the jubilation I experienced after I faced the rock and jumped off into the water.
That experience marked a turning point in my journey—for better—and for worse.
Keep Reading: Torn Apart By My Own Perverseness
Previous Post: Open Up Your Mouth And Speak
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Friday, May 21, 2010
Open Up Your Mouth and Speak
God couldn't have been more clear about my life purpose. "Open up your mouth and speak the message of the gospel to lost souls you meet."
THAT was the point it all hinged on. I thought I was a missionary when I was in Spain--I claimed to be one--I lived like a Christian--I was active in church--I passed out tracts--I visited the hospital--I did Bible studies--I led the choir--I looked for ways to do ministry. But when it came to that one thing, my lips were sealed. Down in the core of my being, I was profoundly unwilling to do one thing: activate my vocal chords for the advancement of God's kingdom.
Why?
Why would I balk at that? It should have been so simple. I talked freely and easily about anything else. Small talk, sports, politics, TV, movies, music, ideas, relationships, all came to my lips unhindered and poured out in a fluent stream as I tried to be friendly to people I met and strike up conversations "that could lead to spiritual things." I would even consciously try to coax the conversation around to making the perfect setup for linking into the gospel--where just one phrase would transition us as naturally as can be into talking about the Lord. Let's say you're talking about gardening. You say something like "Have you ever thought of the world as a garden, with people growing in it?" so that they can make a comment along those lines, which you will respond with, "It reminds me of Jesus's parable of the sower. Have you ever heard that parable?" Then you can take it from there (depending on their responses) and use that parable to explain the gospel message or ask them what kind of ground they think they are.
I got lots of these opportunities. I failed to take up any of them. The Lord would drop a perfect situation into my lap, as perfect a setup as I could wish, where all I had to do was insert that one key phrase and go from there. And every time, I would toss that phrase away and select something else, something safe, something trite or flippant or lighthearted, that would steer me away from the "danger zone" I had approached so closely.
Why, though? That was so stupid. I knew it was stupid. I would berate myself for it afterwards. Opportunities to rescue people's precious souls, just thrown out.
God called me to open up my mouth and speak, but something was stopping me. I didn't really even know what it was.
One day, he very cleverly trapped me in a real-life situation to show me exactly what the problem was.
THAT was the point it all hinged on. I thought I was a missionary when I was in Spain--I claimed to be one--I lived like a Christian--I was active in church--I passed out tracts--I visited the hospital--I did Bible studies--I led the choir--I looked for ways to do ministry. But when it came to that one thing, my lips were sealed. Down in the core of my being, I was profoundly unwilling to do one thing: activate my vocal chords for the advancement of God's kingdom.
Why?
Why would I balk at that? It should have been so simple. I talked freely and easily about anything else. Small talk, sports, politics, TV, movies, music, ideas, relationships, all came to my lips unhindered and poured out in a fluent stream as I tried to be friendly to people I met and strike up conversations "that could lead to spiritual things." I would even consciously try to coax the conversation around to making the perfect setup for linking into the gospel--where just one phrase would transition us as naturally as can be into talking about the Lord. Let's say you're talking about gardening. You say something like "Have you ever thought of the world as a garden, with people growing in it?" so that they can make a comment along those lines, which you will respond with, "It reminds me of Jesus's parable of the sower. Have you ever heard that parable?" Then you can take it from there (depending on their responses) and use that parable to explain the gospel message or ask them what kind of ground they think they are.
I got lots of these opportunities. I failed to take up any of them. The Lord would drop a perfect situation into my lap, as perfect a setup as I could wish, where all I had to do was insert that one key phrase and go from there. And every time, I would toss that phrase away and select something else, something safe, something trite or flippant or lighthearted, that would steer me away from the "danger zone" I had approached so closely.
Why, though? That was so stupid. I knew it was stupid. I would berate myself for it afterwards. Opportunities to rescue people's precious souls, just thrown out.
God called me to open up my mouth and speak, but something was stopping me. I didn't really even know what it was.
One day, he very cleverly trapped me in a real-life situation to show me exactly what the problem was.
Keep Reading: Jump Off A Cliff
Previous Post: ...The Reason We Live
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
Sunday, May 16, 2010
...The Reason We Live
The other breakthrough was equally a gift, a revelation. All at once God revealed my life purpose to me. I had an unmistakable and growing sense of a calling of God on my life. All at once verses seemed to be leaping out of the Scriptures to teach me that God was calling me to do something.
Now, it's not like I had never heard of being called before. I had often said, "I'm called to missions." But down at the root of it, it was nothing more than a regurgitation of the proper-sounding phrasing. Deep below all the layers of Christianese, I had to admit that I had practically called myself to missions. It was what I wanted to do, and while I don't doubt the Lord's role in giving me a heart for missions, I took the bit in my teeth and ran off without consulting God, assuming that he MUST accept that as my life calling. Wasn't that rare? Wasn't that admirable? Didn't he have few enough people signing up for the foreign field?
It was verses like Galatians 1:15-16 that pulled me up short.
I thought, "Wow, God will do this WHEN IT PLEASES HIM." It was a paradigm-shifting thought, one that also revealed how wrong my view of God had been. I had been treating him like my tool--I was using His blessing to get where I hoped to go--when all along I was really supposed to be His tool, one that He could pick up and use or lay aside, at His pleasure.
When Ananias came to Paul, he said to him, "The God of our fathers hath chosen thee, that thou shouldest know his will, and see that Just One, and shouldest hear the voice of his mouth. For thou shalt be his witness unto all men of what thou hast seen and heard" (Acts 22:14-15). Paul later said that Christ "counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry" (1 Tim 1:12). He further stated, "But as we were allowed of God to be put in trust with the Gospel, even so we speak; not as pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts" (1 Th 2:4).
God said to Jeremiah, "Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations." (Jer. 1:5)
The Holy Ghost said to the early church, "Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them." (Acts 13:2)
But it was Isaiah's words that hit me the hardest and the most personally. "Listen, O isles, unto me; and hearken, ye people, from far; The LORD hath called me from the womb; from the bowels of my mother hath he made mention of my name. And he hath made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow of his hand hath he hid me, and made me a polished shaft; in his quiver hath he hid me; and said unto me, Thou art my servant, O Israel, in whom I will be glorified. [...] And now, saith the LORD that formed me from the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob again to him, Though Israel be not gathered, yet shall I be glorious in the eyes of the LORD, and my God shall be my strength. And he said, It is a light thing that thou shouldest be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that thou mayest be my salvation unto the end of the earth." (Is. 49:1-3, 5-6)
God called me. He showed me that He had a purpose for me. And He even showed me what that purpose was. It was something so simple, so plain-sounding when you put it into words, so elementary. But at the same time, it was so profound, and struck so sharply at the root of who I was, and where I was, that it took it a year to sink in and become a part of my life.
Now, it's not like I had never heard of being called before. I had often said, "I'm called to missions." But down at the root of it, it was nothing more than a regurgitation of the proper-sounding phrasing. Deep below all the layers of Christianese, I had to admit that I had practically called myself to missions. It was what I wanted to do, and while I don't doubt the Lord's role in giving me a heart for missions, I took the bit in my teeth and ran off without consulting God, assuming that he MUST accept that as my life calling. Wasn't that rare? Wasn't that admirable? Didn't he have few enough people signing up for the foreign field?
It was verses like Galatians 1:15-16 that pulled me up short.
But when it pleased God,
who separated me from my mother's womb,
and called me by his grace,
to reveal his Son in me,
that I might preach him among the heathen;
immediately I conferred not with flesh and blood.
I thought, "Wow, God will do this WHEN IT PLEASES HIM." It was a paradigm-shifting thought, one that also revealed how wrong my view of God had been. I had been treating him like my tool--I was using His blessing to get where I hoped to go--when all along I was really supposed to be His tool, one that He could pick up and use or lay aside, at His pleasure.
When Ananias came to Paul, he said to him, "The God of our fathers hath chosen thee, that thou shouldest know his will, and see that Just One, and shouldest hear the voice of his mouth. For thou shalt be his witness unto all men of what thou hast seen and heard" (Acts 22:14-15). Paul later said that Christ "counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry" (1 Tim 1:12). He further stated, "But as we were allowed of God to be put in trust with the Gospel, even so we speak; not as pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts" (1 Th 2:4).
God said to Jeremiah, "Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations." (Jer. 1:5)
The Holy Ghost said to the early church, "Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them." (Acts 13:2)
But it was Isaiah's words that hit me the hardest and the most personally. "Listen, O isles, unto me; and hearken, ye people, from far; The LORD hath called me from the womb; from the bowels of my mother hath he made mention of my name. And he hath made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow of his hand hath he hid me, and made me a polished shaft; in his quiver hath he hid me; and said unto me, Thou art my servant, O Israel, in whom I will be glorified. [...] And now, saith the LORD that formed me from the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob again to him, Though Israel be not gathered, yet shall I be glorious in the eyes of the LORD, and my God shall be my strength. And he said, It is a light thing that thou shouldest be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that thou mayest be my salvation unto the end of the earth." (Is. 49:1-3, 5-6)
God called me. He showed me that He had a purpose for me. And He even showed me what that purpose was. It was something so simple, so plain-sounding when you put it into words, so elementary. But at the same time, it was so profound, and struck so sharply at the root of who I was, and where I was, that it took it a year to sink in and become a part of my life.
Keep Reading: Open Up Your Mouth and Speak
Previous Post: To Love Our God...
First Post: Tutored Under the Master Professor
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