I grew up in a Christian home.  I am one of 7 kids.  We grew up on a farm.  My parents were God-fearing, God-loving, God-serving people.  We lived a simple life. It was a good life.  Structure, authority, hard work, laughter, security, trust, faith, values. Those are words that describe our family.  We weren’t perfect, but we were loved.

This is the story of the life and love lived in front of me every single day as I was growing up.  This is the legacy handed down from my parents.

My parents took us to church.  Sunday School.  Sunday morning worship.  Sunday night services.  Wednesday night prayer meeting.  Revival meetings.  Youth revival meetings.  Missionary meetings.  Zone rally meetings.  Vacation Bible School.  Teen talent contests.  Bible quizzing.  Summer camp.  We were in church every time the doors were open.  We were there.

You may think that was a lot of church.  And it was.  But it taught me to respect the Sabbath.  It taught me the importance of meeting with other Christians to worship God.

My dad was the Sunday School superintendent.  He was the church treasurer.  He was a Sunday School teacher. He was a board member. My mom took care of babies in the nursery.  She helped in Vacation Bible School.  She served meals in our home for visiting preachers.  She served at funeral dinners.  She babysat for our pastor’s children. My parents were involved in the church.

My parents the year they were married.

This is what I know.

I know what it’s like to have my parents take me to church every Sunday.

I know what it’s like to see my dad write out his tithe check.

I know what it’s like to hear my mom pray for her children by name.

I know what it’s like for our family to have devotions together every night before bed.

I know what it’s like at age 8 to go to the altar with my dad and ask Jesus into my heart.

I know what it’s like for my mom to tell me at age 12 that it was time for me to start having daily devotions.

I know what it’s like to see my mother go to the altar to totally surrender her life to God, when she realized she needed a deeper relationship with Him.

I know what it’s like for my parents to help pastors of neighboring churches by filling their freezer with food.

I know what it’s like to see my mom deliver a Sunday dinner to the lonely old man living in a shack down the road from us.

I know what it’s like to see my dad kiss my mom on the cheek after Sunday dinner to thank her for the wonderful meal.

My parents’ relationship was solid.  My parents’ relationship with their God was solid.  They were humble servants of a God bigger than them, and they faithfully served Him.

I am so thankful for the foundation of faith that was lived out in front of me.  I’m thankful for the prayers and discipline that was part of our home.  I’m fortunate for this legacy.  I have been able to avoid many poor decisions and life experiences because of the rich heritage that was passed down to me.

I realize many people won’t be able to relate to my story.  They may be jealous.  They may ridicule me.  I remember thinking as a child that I was thankful to be in a family where God’s love was taught. I realized some of my friends didn’t have that.  They didn’t have parents who prayed with them or for them.  They didn’t own a Bible.  They didn’t know God’s love.

I’ve always been aware of God and his love for me.  I owe that to my parents.  I’ve known from an early age that I needed Jesus to forgive my sins.  I knew I wanted to go to heaven.  I wanted to obey God.  And I made the decision to serve the God of my parents.  They taught me well.  And I’m thankful.

The office where my dad would study his Sunday School lessons and my mom would kneel and pray for her children.

She used her words to belittle me again.  Others heard her.  One of them spoke up.  Then she mean giggled.  As if that made her words ok.   As if she was joking.   Is joking just truth put to laughter?  She was the only one laughing.

When she wants her way and tries to intimidate you into doing it, she says mean words. Unkind words.  Insulting words. Not just to your face, but in front of others. Making a spectacle out of herself.  Really.  And calling attention to what she perceives as your shortcomings.

She’s an adult. Not a child. Not a teenager. She’s someone who knows better. She does it anyway.  She isn’t always like this.  She can be very kind and generous.  That’s why it’s so confusing.  And the funny thing…she calls me friend.  She trusts me.

The other thing.  She doesn’t do it just to me.  I’ve heard her words when they were directed at others.  Cutting words.  Sharp tone.  Wanting to get her point across.  Because it’s her way or no way.  It’s about her.  No one else.

I’ve wondered what caused her to be like this.  I know part of her story, but only the part she wants to share.  There’s always a part of the story that isn’t shared.  We all do it.  We keep it close.  She does.  I do. We fear judgment and rejection by others.

That’s when I know she needs to feel loved. Not condemned. But it’s hard to turn the other cheek. It’s hard to pray for her. It’s hard to even look her in the eye.  It’s hard to stay silent.  I want to say mean words, too.  I want to get even.  I want her to feel pain.  But I know that’s not the words God wants me to say to her. I know she’s already felt rejection.  I know she’s built up walls.  Self-preservation, it’s called.  It must be a heavy load to carry.

He wants me to be Jesus to her.  Even though she knows him.  He wants me to love her as he loves her.  Even when she’s unlovable.  Even when others come to me and say they notice her actions.  They’ve heard the stories about her unkind words.  How am I supposed to respond to that?  Share more stories?  Compare hurt feelings?  Gossip?  Give a thin smile and stay silent?  Or speak God’s love to them, as well?

I try to see her through God’s eyes.  What does he see when he looks at her?  What does he hear when she speaks unkind words?  He sees her pain.  He sees the scars.  He hears her need.  He hears her hurt.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.  John 3:16

I think of Jesus and his sacrifice.  Giving his life for us.  For her.  For me.  For anyone.  For everyone.

And I think of her, because she’s included in whosoever.  I think of her standing in front of God on judgment day.  I want him to welcome her into heaven.  I want him to look her in the eye and say, “well done, good and faithful servant.”  I want her to want heaven.

Then I remember another scene from this week.  Someone told me a story.  I thought it was funny.  So I laughed.  They didn’t think it was funny.  They didn’t laugh.  I haven’t heard from them since.  Did I offend?  Was I guilty of the same offense that had been thrown at me?  Was I careless with my words, too?  Intentional or unintentional, words matter.  For they come from the heart.

I want to be welcomed into heaven, too.  So my words and my actions and my thoughts must also line up with God’s word.  My offender is not the only one who needs forgiveness and grace.  I’m whosoever, too.

I was talking to a friend at work, and she asked if I had plans for the weekend.  I said I’m planning to sleep in on Saturday, because I was feeling a little under the weather.  “Oh, that’s nice,” she said.  Then she told me that her mother, who is on hospice, fell breaking her rib and puncturing her lung.  She had been at the hospital off and on with her mom for the last couple of days. Yet she still managed to make it to work every single day.  Her husband who was recently diagnosed with leukemia, was going to the hospital the next day for his chemo treatment.  He may have to spend the night. She also babysits her grandson every Saturday.

I felt so small.  So spoiled.  My life is a piece of cake compared to hers. It’s easy to forget about others’ sufferings when you’re not in the thick of it. It’s easy to be focused only on my easy life. I’m sleeping in tomorrow, because I have a cold. She has no chance for rest, even if she’s under the weather.

I often feel guilty knowing that life is good for me right now. My husband and I are both employed. We’re healthy. We’re saving for retirement. We have a beautiful home.  We attend a great church.  Our life is quiet and chaos-free. Life is good. The troubles that pop up in my life right now are pretty trivial compared to what I know others are facing.  I have to remind myself that I have nothing to complain about.  Really.

In a previous post, I mentioned a period in our lives that was very difficult.  We have recovered and life has moved on in a good way.  Reality tells me that we will most likely face difficulties at some point in the future.  We just don’t know when or what it will be.

But. Right. Now. Life. Is. Good.  And that’s a good thing.

It’s hard to need God when you don’t need anything.

One thing I do know is that I still need God in the good times.  It’s easy to get distracted from needing God when things are going good.  After all, I pride myself on being self-sufficient.  When life is tough, I cry out to God for strength.  When life is good, I think I can handle everything on my own.

In Genesis 41, Pharaoh had a couple of disturbing dreams.  God spoke through Joseph to interpret those dreams.  The land of Egypt would have seven years of plenty and then seven years of famine.  In the years of plenty, they were to prepare for the famine.  Joseph created a plan  to prepare for the upcoming hard times.  When I read Genesis 41:47-49, I see words that speak to me about preparing for my years of famine.

In years of abundance:  Gather.  Store the excess.  Preserve.  Reserve.

I can use these same steps during my years of plenty to prepare for times of need.  I have to intentionally stay focused on keeping my relationship with God a priority.  I need to study His Word to show myself approved.  I need to take time to slow down and listen to Him speak to me.   I realize I need God more than ever in the good times.  During the good times, my relationship with God has to be my first priority.

I’m reminded of Ecclesiastes 3, where we’re told there is a time for everything.  A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to mourn and a time to dance. During this time of laughter and dancing, I need to focus on filling my cup with God’s word each day. When those days of weeping and mourning come, and they will come, I can reach into my cup overflowing with God’s love and mercy to scoop out the portion I need for that day.  Now is the time to fill my cup, keep an undivided heart and focus on my first love.

 

 

 

I recognized her as soon as I saw her sitting on the couch.  When she spoke, her voice was familiar.  She looked troubled.  Stressed is how someone described her.  I saw it written on her face and in her body language.  She looked like she was running from the past and hoping an uncertain future wouldn’t find her.

I heard her story that night.  I had heard a different story a few years earlier.  Both true.  Both unsettling.

I’ve been thinking about her for 4 days now.  Her story was of someone broken.  Really broken.  Abused.  Neglected.  Used.  Given up.  Sold.  Scarred.  Addicted.  Unloved.  Alone.

Her past is one I don’t relate to, but her need for a Savior is as real as my need for my Savior.

She’s never had anyone who has really loved her.  She’s never known hope.  She thinks God hates her.  And she doesn’t even know what God is capable of.  She doesn’t know that he loved her before she was even born.  She doesn’t know that he had planned out her life before she even existed.  She doesn’t know that His son died for her.  Maybe she knows.  Maybe she just can’t accept that she’s worthy of His love.

Those who should have loved her didn’t.  She has never know a love that’s given freely without demanding something in return.  There’s always been a price.

She thought that when she got clean her family would welcome her with open arms.  They didn’t.

How does a broken person mend if they have no hope?

I’m reading Ann Voskamp’s latest book, “The Broken Way”.  Ann says, “No matter what they’re saying, everyone’s asking, ‘Can you just love me’.

I’ve heard that users use people and hurt people hurt people.  Does that mean we shouldn’t love them?  If those who love God don’t show love to the unloved, who will?

Jesus specialized in helping broken people.  Some broken people didn’t know him.  The woman who had been married 5 times and was living with a man who wasn’t her husband.  The woman caught in adultery.  The tax collector who kept some of the money for himself.  Jesus helped them anyway.  Even people who followed him were broken.  One disciple denied knowing him.  Another disciple betrayed him.  Jesus loved them anyway.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30

I was unemployed.  My husband was unemployed.  He was working 4 part-time jobs.  I was looking.  We had known that his job was being eliminated, but my job cut came out of the blue.  Totally unexpected.  We had a small emergency savings account.  Both of our cars were paid off.  But still we had some debt.  We figured out a way to make our finances work, but things were tight.

After 3 months, I got a job.  Not the job I wanted, but it was a job.  I was making less than half of what I had been making.  He was making less money, as well. We’ve never lived an extravagant lifestyle, but we quickly learned to live an even simpler life.  Gone were the days of spending money on whatever we wanted.  We had just enough money for our very tight budget.

On Fridays, we splurged and went out for pizza.  A new pizza shop had opened up near our house, and they made the best cracker crust pizza.  I love it when the edge of a good thin crust just crackles and falls apart on the first bite. We would pick up the pizza and take it to a park.  As we ate at a picnic table, we watched young families play on the swings. Their lives seemed so carefree, when mine felt like it had fallen apart. Then we would walk over to the ice cream shop and get an ice cream cone. The butterscotch swirl was to die for! We were now ready for the weekend.

One thing that was always at the back of my mind during this period was “what if the best of our life has already happened.  What if we never make as much money as we had been making before we lost our jobs. What if we can never retire.”  What if. What if. What if.  Could I be content with that? Could I be content with life as it was? Could I quit comparing what I didn’t have to what others had?

When everything we hold dear is threatened or gone, is God enough?  Is God enough to give me a joyful life?  A joyful attitude even if I didn’t know what the future looked like. When our comfort zone is no longer comfortable, is God enough?

Can I be content when life doesn’t give me everything I want? Can I continue to dream and be content, even if those dreams don’t come true?  They weren’t big dreams, just dreams of more.

If I say God is number one in my life, do I mean it when he’s all I have?  When everything else I’ve always wanted or had is gone, is God enough?

Is God enough only when our dreams come true?  When we get that awesome job?  When we have a certain amount of money in the bank?  When we are finally able to buy our dream home?  When we have that baby we’ve always wanted?  When our debts are paid off?  When our health is good?  When our children make us proud?

What if those things never happen?

Will I allow God to fill the one big void in my life, when I’ve been filling it with so many other distractions? For so many years.

Today I think back on those days with fond memories. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that if  when I go through another dark time that God will be with me.  Even if life is bad, God is still good.  Difficult circumstances don’t make me run from God.  They make me run faster toward him.

I learned that God is enough.  He is my pride and joy.  He is the one I confide in, the one I trust completely.  We’ve developed a close relationship, God and me.  We walk and talk together each day. Sometimes his voice is loud and clear. Other times, I have to listen closely to hear it. If he’s all I have, if everything and everyone else I hold dear are gone, he will still be with me.  Through thick and thin.  Through good times and bad.  He is enough.

My source of hope is Christ alone. The song “Bring the Rain”  by MercyMe says it perfectly.

I’ve been thinking about Jesus’ attitude leading up to his crucifixion.  He had so many opportunities to let the situation get the best of him.  But he didn’t.  He always had the right attitude.

He knew who he was
He knew whose he was
He knew what he was made to do
His purpose was set in stone

He was God
Yet he was man
He was tempted
Just as we are
Yet he never gave in
Never

He could have resisted
He could have fought it
He could have turned his back and walked away

But he didn’t

Instead, he suffered for us
He died for us
He rose from the dead for us
He ascended to heaven for us

He had the right attitude at all times
He didn’t let circumstances get the best of him

When he was betrayed by Judas’ kiss
When he was arrested in the garden
When he was disowned by Peter
When he was questioned by Pontius Pilate
When he was whipped
When he was ridiculed

When the crown of thorns sank into his skull
When the first nail pierced his skin
When the knife was plunged into his side
When they gave him the bitter drink

He knew who he was
He knew whose he was
He knew what he was made to do
His purpose was set in stone

He was the victor
He rose from the dead
He walked out of the sealed tomb
He spoke to Mary Magdalene
He appeared before the disciples
He shared truth with two on the road to Emmaeus
He ascended to heaven
He sits at the right hand of God the Father
He waits for us
He conquered