Monthly Archives: July 2013

Weapons of Mass Distraction

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Walking into the park, a vast expanse of grass unfolds before me. Dotting the landscape are simple, white canvas tents, with cannon and horses on the hillside. Campfires smolder, the smell of smoke heavy in the air. Joy welled up inside me. Happiness is a Civil War Encampment.
My husband held back a bit, walking in my wake. He’s not a history buff, but he likes the blacksmith thing and the cannons, so he agreed to come with me. We visited with the soldiers and I spoke to some lovely teenagers in hoopskirts. I was having a great time. Turning to leave, I saw some reenactors giving a talk under one of the large tarps. Yay! History lesson!
“General Lee” was talking about war strategy. He explained that the North needed access to the Mississippi River for supply travel, but the South had a chokehold on the riverbanks. He decided to order one of his regiments to saddle up and ride through Louisiana.
Just ride. They were not to engage the enemy. No fighting. He figured that just the sight of a Yankee regiment on the move would create an effective diversion. He was right. Hundreds of Confederate troops ran to see what the heck was going on in Louisiana. Grant got his port.
I leaned over and whispered to my husband, “This guy’s a GENIUS!” My enthusiasm was met with a thoughtful “Mm-hmm” as my husband scanned the program, looking for the start time of the embalming demo. Maybe he is underwhelmed, but I am in awe.
Actually, the tactic of diversion is as old as the hills. Ask the parent of a toddler, or especially a magician. “Look over here!” And I do, and I’m faked out of my socks.
So simple. So effective.
Unfortunately, this happens in my life too. I’m on the right path and defending my post. Prayer life? Check. Eating habits? Check. Negative emotions? Check. But then someone lets the horses out, and there I am, running after them, trying to get a better look.

Sitting in front of the TV, I am too tired to move.
Goodbye night prayer.



That cupcake looks amazing!
Goodbye diet.


A car cuts me off in traffic. Goodbye patience .
These life events don’t make earsplitting noise; there are no cannons, no rifles. But like the army of the South, they are just enough to make me abandon my post. The thundering hooves of distraction turn my head and I am abandoning my path. It’s miles before I stop and wonder: “How did I get here?”
So simple. So effective.
The war talk is over. Exiting the tent, I realize that I learned more than a history lesson today.
The frantic activities designed to lead me away from the Lord will keep coming. I’ve got to be alert and pay no attention to the meaningless commotion. I know where I need to be. And I don’t want to be distracted.

Linking with A Little R and R Wednesdays

Swimming with St. Peter

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If I’m looking for a way to understand how strength and weakness coexist, I look no further than my good friend, St. Peter. Even his name announces the fascinating mix of saint and sinner that he was. “Cephas” means “rock,” both a sturdy foundation, and a sharp, irregular wall.
He knew in his heart that Jesus was the Messiah. Walking away from a fortune in fish, he joined Jesus that sunny day so long ago. When Christ asked his Apostles, “But who do you say that I am?” (Matt. 16:15), it was Peter who answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” And how can we forget our bold brother, as he commanded the lame man to “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” There was a lot of leaping and praising God that day.
This bold, spirit-filled man also had his moments of weakness. When Jesus told his disciples that he would have to suffer and die, Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. “God forbid, Lord!” We all know what’s coming next: “Get thee behind me, Satan.” When Jesus was arrested, Peter was lurking in the courtyard outside the jail. Scared witless, he denied Jesus three times. Your heart just goes out to the guy, doesn’t it?
My favorite story of the humanity of Peter is in Matthew:14. Peter sees Jesus walking across the seas in the middle of a storm. Peter calls out in great faith; “Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water.”
Jesus calls. Peter exits the boat. Peter sinks.
Now, this isn’t funny, but I can’t help but smile. I’m smiling because I recognize this. I’m just like Peter. Full of faith, sure. But full of doubt too. I know that Jesus is divine and can do anything. But can I really do anything, if Jesus is with me? That’s where the rubber hits the road; this is the crisis of faith.
Peter decided, after leaving the boat, that he couldn’t walk on water. That would make a lot of sense if he was alone. But Jesus was with him; so all things are possible.
I had to take my ninety-six year old Aunt to WalMart to pick up her new glasses. I was scared to death. Having broken her hip last year, the resulting surgery left my Aunt significantly weaker. Leaning on a walker, her steps were faltering and unbalanced. A short woman, she needed to use a step to get up into my car. What if she falls?
Driving to pick her up, I prayed for safety, strength, and protection. Oh yeah, and for a WWF wrestler to show up and lift her in and out of the car! But like Peter, it was time to face my fears. Jesus is with me. All things are possible.
I am all the Lord has today to care for his ninety-six year old daughter. Why wouldn’t he help me?
I was able to support my Aunt, doing the ‘in-and-out of the car’ dance several times. She got her glasses, and, bonus time!, she got lunch at Baker’s Square. Not because of me, but because Jesus was with me.
It makes all the difference in the world. Just ask St. Peter.


Linking with Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday and Monday Musings

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Praying in Trust

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PRAYING IN TRUST:
PRAYER TO BE PRESENT TO THE PRESENCE
God of faith, hope and love,
let me find joy in this day



in the morning sunrise,
in the sounds of awakening,
in the routines of rising and readying.

You are in all these moments of my life.

Everything is a reminder of your presence.

Let this moment of remembering become a small thank-you for the blessings,
for the hopes and triumphs
of this next twenty-four hours traveling with you.

Amen.



"Manic Martha"

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Whenever I hear the names “Martha and Mary,” I have vivid pictures in my head. Growing up as one of four girls, I can relate to the complaining Martha, who wanted her sister to get up and help her.
These two women held opposing jobs when Jesus came to visit. Martha was the overworked hostess; Mary was the attentive listener at Jesus’ feet. And Mary had had chosen the ‘better part.’
As a young girl, I couldn’t understand why Jesus would tell Martha that she was a Nervous Nellie, and that Mary’s choice was perfect. In my family, you got up and pitched in. Jesus and his disciples arrived at the house tired and hungry. Martha could see their needs, so she got moving. What’s wrong with that? To me, it sure looked like Mary was avoiding work.
But now I know there is more going on here than meets the eye. I read a wonderful reflection on this passage. One thing that caught my eye was the label the author used to describe our hardworking sister. “Manic Martha.”
The author thought that Martha’s endless loop of serving meant that she was avoiding something. Hmmm. What an interesting idea. Come to think of it,  I can be quite the Manic Martha myself. When I have to do something I don’t want to do, suddenly my chore list is fascinating reading.
For example, I have a hard time settling down to write. When it’s time to sit and put some words on paper, I am almost always willing to be distracted. I’ll pay bills, return emails, weed the backyard, take my vitamins, make that doctors appointment, do a load of laundry, answer the phone, make a Starbucks run and look at that! No time left to write. All that motion, invented to avoid the one thing I needed to get accomplished.
Running in my own endless loop, I am taking a pass on being quiet Mary, and choosing instead to become a full-blown Martha.
Jesus never told Martha her work wasn’t important. He told her she was anxious. It was the worry that led her to become swamped in things that could wait. She lost sight of the fact that her place of peace was at Jesus’ feet, just like her sister Mary.
All those little jobs that I got tangled up in were the result of a type of worry too. It’s hard to write, so instead, I chose the endless chores. I allowed myself to be distracted from the work I needed to do.

So Lord, when it’s time to do the things that I’d rather skip, please send me the Spirit of Mary. Help me not to worry. Calm my mind so I won’t give in to distraction. I have a task to complete, and the laundry can wait.


Linking today with Monday Musings and Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday

Snapshot of Love: A Blessed Week

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This is probably the best bloghop ever to do after a week on vacation!

My family and I were incredibly blessed to travel together to Northern Europe. This, in itself, was a gift of love from my Father, who said his greatest joy was to watch his children interact with each other. (Kind of sounds like Our Father, doesn’t it??) Not so sure he could say the same thing when we were younger! We were a big, loud bunch, but come to think of it…nothing much has changed!

Here is a picture of us all in our nifty, matching jackets. My brother took charge and ordered them all for us. They really came in handy when the winds blew, and we had such a lovely sense of family unity wearing them.
Copenhagen is such a beautiful city. And everyone rides their bikes! We marveled at how all these bicycles were locked, but how easy they would be to steal in a big city in the United States. Yet these blocks and blocks of bikes would remain, and to me, it was such a wonderful example of trust.
Berlin was a contrast of old and new, divided history and unified reality. We were able to see a portion of the Berlin Wall. Most of it was destroyed, but the city was able to keep parts of it displayed to ‘always remember.’ The feeling here was just so somber, and I would say reverent. God was most certainly here, reminding us that we all belong together, and what evil comes when we deny that.
We spent two days in St. Petersburg, Russia. I could go on for days about that city. But, the most impressive thing for me, was to be able to see The Return of the Prodigal Son (Rembrandt) at the Hermitage Museum. It’s not a great photo…there were tons of people and ‘no flash photography’, but I just love this painting. I had read the book of the same name by Henri Nouwen, and couldn’t wait to see it myself. Such a beautiful expression of coming home.
I am including this picture, because part of the blessing of being together every night for dinner, was the story telling! We all talked about our favorite Thanksgiving foods, ‘best vacation’ and so much more. The love God shared with us in each other was just amazing. What wonderful memories!
Lest I forget, let’s have a moment of silence for the revered McDonalds in Russia. Yes, they truly are everywhere! But…comfort food is comfort food, and it’s a reliable place to go if you are missing your country’s fast food fare.
Well, that’s enough for now. We also went to Estonia and Finland, and I might get to that someday. But let me tell you, God blessed all of us with a view into parts of the world we had never seen. I would look at the cities, and know that God blesses all of us, everywhere, all the time. I am also so grateful for the time we spent together as a family. The touring, the games on the ship, the dinners and the quiet chats were just heavenly. And there is a reason for that! God’s love here is heaven on earth.
Linking today with Snapshot of Love Bloghop
Linking Monday with Sharing His Beauty

Belong

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Belong? Yes, please!
Is there a sweeter word in the English language than ‘belong?’ Maybe you would say ‘love’—but what is love, but the ultimate form of belonging?
When I meet someone for the first time, I ask things like, “Where do you work?” or “What is your family like?” I guess what I am really asking is; “Where do you belong?” If I have no first hand knowledge of you, I get an idea of who you are by where you belong.
Belonging somewhere places us in a community. And we were all born for a life lived in community.
So good questions to ask myself should not be limited to: “Where do I belong?” I should be asking: “Does that place allow you to come along too?”
Is my community a place that does not nurture growth and acceptance? Because if it doesn’t; I need to get out of there. That’s more like a restricted club with seats for only a few. That’s not for me.
So will I join you in your travels? Of course!

Let’s face the sun together. But I want you to be sure that you are welcome into mine too. Let’s link arms with as many people as possible…because we belong together.

Linking today with: Five Minute Friday http://lisajobaker.com/

Sun on the Moon

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I am on vacation this week and next week, so I won’t have the opportunity to post very much. My husband and I are on a family cruise with my Dad, my seven siblings and all the spouses (except my sister’s husband, boo!). We are having a wonderful time in Northern Europe!
I promise to tell you all about it when I get back! I’m sorry I have not been able to visit your blogs and say ‘hi’, but you’ll be ‘seeing’ me after next week.
Blessings to you!


“The sun on the moon made a mighty nice light”
From: Sun on the Moon by James Taylor



I am always struck by the people who do quiet, extraordinary things, and refuse to accept any honors for doing them.


· The woman who finds a wallet full of money, and returns it intact to it’s owner.

· The child who breaks his cookie in half to please his friend who didn’t get one.

· The athlete who gives God the glory when he wins the big race.

· The fireman who runs into a burning building to rescue a trapped employee.







· The person who volunteers for the graveyard shift at the homeless shelter.

· The parent who sits at the bedside of their hospitalized child all day and all night.

· The husband who cares for his wife as she slowly sinks into dementia.

· The employee who pulls a double shift so his relief man can stay home and recover from the flu.



Quiet heroes. These are the people who do not grab for headlines or seek to cover themselves in glory. They know that they have been called, and it’s time to answer. It’s not a question of how great they are. They don’t have time for all of that.

Maybe they know they are being Christ to someone else. Maybe they don’t even take the time to think that far. But one thing I know. They realize that they are not the source of their strength. They do not assume that their light comes from themselves. Not in a million years.

Thank you to all the people who radiate the light of Christ. No one can be that light if they believe they have created it. They are the moon–absorbing and reflecting.

And the sun on the moon makes a mighty nice light.

Abram and Sarai

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When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to him…I will give you a son by her; I will bless her and she shall be the mother of nations…Then Abraham fell down on his face and laughed and said to himself, “Shall a child be born to a man who is 100 years old? Shall Sarah, who is 90 years old bear a child?” Genesis 17:1;15;17




I don’t think there is a person alive who wouldn’t empathize with Abram.


Abram had been told by God that he was going to “make of you a great nation” (Gen 12:2), and have “descendants as numerous as the stars” (Gen 15:5). Moving from Genesis 15 to Genesis 17, things are not looking so great for Abram. He and his wife are old, even by biblical standards. The promises of God now seem very far away. Who wouldn’t feel like God forgot his promise?

Are there times when it seems like God has forgotten you? I experience that when things are not looking so great for me either, just like Abram.

It’s a lot easier to follow in faith when everything is going well. If I decide God is calling me to serve him in a particular ministry, I say “yes.” It ‘feels’ right if the committee or service runs without problems, but what happens in the rough times? I’m sure you have been on a committee that became rudderless. In those situations, I think to myself “Why am I here?”

Why would God ask me to do something and then, seemingly, disappear?

The reaction of Abram and Sarai in their dilemma was predictable; they took matters into their own hands. Abram had a son by his maid. They both had come to the conclusion that God’s promise was not going to be fulfilled, so they jumped ahead and filled it themselves.

When I feel deserted, just like Abram, my reaction is to run off and do something my own way too. If the Lord isn’t helping me, I guess I’d better give birth to my own idea. So I run with that, and maybe it helps for a while. But in the end, I know it’s not going to work out the way God planned it.

God trusted Abram, the “father of many” (the meaning of his new name: Abraham), to wait. Given the promise, he was then called to sit tight. God would act when the time was right. The Lord trusts me to wait for him too. Maybe my project is floundering now, but God has called me to it, and he will not forget me.

Abram became Abraham; Sarai became Sarah because God had a plan. The timing was his, not theirs. It’s such a comfort for me to remember that when I wait for God to act in my life. He has promised that he will never leave me, and that his extravagant love will always surround me. It might seem like God is running late, or has forgotten, but honestly, that’s more like me. God doesn’t run late. God doesn’t forget.

Be patient, therefore, brothers until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.” James 5: 7-8


So Lord, help me to resist running my own way (or laughing!), and to believe that you are still with me and bless me. Give me strength to wait for the ‘late rains’, that prepare me for your will. In your time, the harvest will come in abundance!

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Beautiful

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So I am supposed to write for five minutes. No editing. No rewrites. Here we go!
Subject: Beautiful
The fuse is lit and the little fireball starts to climb; up…up…up…into the sky after I hear the satisfying ‘thump,’ and it echoes in my chest. As the little light arcs higher, I crane my neck to see the explosion. I see the hanging, twinkling lights of white; in finger shapes, draping down to the earth.
It’s Beautiful.
Honestly, I think any ‘little light’ in the darkness is beautiful. Not too big though, not too overwhelming. Like the fireflies that dance and rise over my grass on a summer night. The North Star, hanging so close to the sea, leading a ship home. The moon as it rises on a cloudless night to shine on my husband and me as we walk hand-in-hand.
There is another light in the darkness that I love. The light that comes from the people who lead me out of dark places. Confused, in a fog… I may be unable to see, but these loved ones shine a small light, and I find my way.
A small light can be seen for miles in the dark. I find it and it gives me hope.

It’s Beautiful.
Linking up today with “ Five Minute Friday “