Thursday thought: Steady

After reading John Piper's poem "The Calvinist", I have been contemplating that word he uses to describe someone who trusts in a sovereign God: steady.

I was reminded of an event several years ago when my son, Tim, was running at Div. III cross-country nationals, and my good friend Angela had joined us at the course.  We made the mistake of walking the course the day before the race with the assistant coach (whose job it was to mother the runners).  After 45 minutes of walking the course with a constant commentary of things like, "I bet a hundred runners slip over this stream.  I'll be purposed if we don;t see broken bones..." and "This is a tight spot-- they will be pushing and shoving here,"  I found myself feeling slightly sick to my stomach and very nervous for my dear boy.  The next morning as we waited for the start, I felt positively ill.  And my sweet friend Angela reminded me, "Chris, this is where being a Calvinist is supposed to pay off!"

Holding steady and acting on what you know to be true despite how you feel sounds wonderful in the abstract.  But it is hard work in reality.  It's much easier to let our feelings have their way, and to follow wherever they may blow. As a matter of a fact, I think it would be impossible without God's gift of grace that gently calls us back to himself.

This time of year I am reminded of the steadiness of  Joseph.  He wasn't buying the whole virgin birth story,  but he was kind, and thought to put Mary away quietly to help her avoid scandal.  Then God, in an incredible work of grace, spoke to Joseph in a dream, and steadied him.  He stayed the course after all.

And I think about Mary, who believed the angel, and hid things in her heart.  How did she do that?  We get a glimpse here, in Luke 1: 46-55.  May her song be ours, Gentle Reader:

And Mary said, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and rejoices in God my Savior, for he  has looked on the humble estate of his servant.  For behold, from now on all generations shall call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy of sfor those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imaginations of their own hearts; he has brought down the mighty from their thrones, and has exalted those of humble estate; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has helped his servant, isreal, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever.

Thursday thought: Commit

I met with a dear friend this week to work on some music for a future project.  We chatted about the music we were rehearsing-- some of which is a bit out of my comfort zone, but beautiful nevertheless-- and he challenged me to commit to the music.  He may not have seen it as a challenge, but then he is in his element, and I am bringing my folksy, "pure" sound to his jazz.  All the same, it dawned on me that he was right.  I am tentative and uncommitted because I am uncomfortable and it all feels risky to me. After all, why leave a place of ease and wander where you can fail?

As I have practiced my music and reflected on that comment this week, I have had an epiphany of sorts: Those of us who like to skirt along the edges of perfectionism and pietism and legalism by nature have to work to move out of that spot where we can excuse our failures because we didn't really try.  If we are going to do something, we ought to commit to it wholeheartedly, and learn from the successes and the failures. That is to live fully, trusting that God's providential hand has brought you to this day, this time, this challenge. And you have nothing to fear.

And so, here's hoping that you find the courage to commit to your life today, Gentle Reader.  I am quaking in my boots, but I am right behind you.

 

Thursday thought: Ordinary

I have been blessed to sit under good, biblical, expository preaching in my home church for many years.  As my pastor has worked through the scriptures, several themes have emerged that have touched me profoundly.  One such theme is the idea of the God of the Universe being a God of the ordinary, and working through ordinary people and ordinary means for the most part to bring about His extraordinary plan.

I have sometimes wondered if the contemporary church's proclivity to follow the world in its love of celebrity is caused largely by our dismissing the ordinary means and works of grace.  I have been in that group where my ho-hum testimony of God's quiet, gentle faithfulness in my family and my life has been seen as suspect because I could not point to a time and date or dramatic event for my conversion.  I wonder if our love of great preacher-personalities, national conferences, and contemporary Christian music personalities is nothing more than the church following after the world.

I have struggled in this period of my life-- when I am fighting disease and needing to retreat from activity-- with God's purpose for me.  I must admit that I have asked God if He didn't have something better and bigger for me to do than rest in my chair in the afternoon. Or make dinner for my husband.  Or teach two students how to write. Or care for aging parents.  Or pray. The fact that I ask that question might tell me much about the idols of my heart.

Ordinary acts of service and obedience are perhaps the big acts, not the little ones.  They may not be noteworthy, but they do the tough work of building a Christian character. May we be brave enough, Gentle Reader, to be faithful in the little things.

I have found the series of discussions at the White Horse Inn on all things "ordinary" found here to be helpful.  You will find the podcasts posted in the upper right-hand corner.  Look for the word "ordinary" in the title.

Thursday Thought: Unexpected Blessings

Last weekend we traveled to Colorado to celebrate with old friends.  We expected to have a lovely time with them, and to enjoy the gorgeous scenery around the Collegiate Peaks, which we did. But I was reminded once again of God's love for me in the unexpected blessings. Who thought we'd see a golden eagle in the middle of the afternoon, or meet up with students whose families would become the kind of new friends that feel like old friends?  Or that we would find a lovely river walk to enjoy on our way?

God is a master of design.  With Him, there are no coincidences-- only divine appointments.  When I follow my days delighting in that fact, they are happy days.

Thursday Thoughts: God's will, callings, and mercy

It seems we always have something to learn.  One of the first chapters of the Bible that I fell in love with as a teen was 1 Corinthians 13.  I've sung it, memorized it in multiple versions, heard sermons on it.  Recently, I have been slowly reading Phil Ryken's book, Loving the Way Jesus Loves, and I am discovering new and nuanced meaning in the familiar words. 

From where I sit each afternoon in my comfy chair, trying to relax into God's calling for me to rest, I found the following perspective challenging:

This is what love does: it lets the needs of others set our agenda, rather than letting our agenda limit how much we are willing to serve--especially when our service may give people the opportunity to hear the word of God.  Whatever limits we decide to place on our service should not be determined by our selfish desires but by the will of God, by our other legitimate callings, and by what is truly merciful for the people who are asking for help.
~p.55

Ah. Now to discern God's will, and my legitimate callings. May God make us both, Gentle Reader, more cognizant of what is truly merciful to those around us.

Thursday thoughts: the desert

Now that I am a lady of leisure, it occurs to me that I may be able to return to a bit more blogging.  I have been storing up thoughts about a variety of subjects, and think I may articulate them here on Thursdays.  These will be random, delight-or-interest-driven ideas. Today, I'd like you to consider the desert with me.

When this Midwest girl moved to the high plains desert of Northern New Mexico, it was both a culture and a landscape shock.  We get a little more than 18 inches of precipitation a year here, and less in much of the surrounding area.  We often have a relative humidity of less than 10%, and can have a 24-hr temperature change of 30 or more degrees on a fairly regular basis.  The ground is scraggly and has been compared by two visitors-who-shall-not-be-named as "the result of the Fall", and the "other side of the moon." And the people who last here are a sort of tough, independent kind of folk.  Let's just say it took some getting used to.

But I have come to realize that living in a desert produces many good things.  Let me list a few:

• Almost nothing ever molds.
• Glasses of iced beverages rarely sweat in the summer- the water evaporates.
• You sweat, but you don't know it, because it evaporates. Instead of air-conditioning, we have evaporative coolers: we pump moist air through our houses, and it cools them as it evaporates.  This method can keep my house at 72 degrees when it is almost 90 outside. Amazing!
• Because it is barren, you notice things you would fail to notice in some lush, green space.  For instance, the changing color of the sun throughout the year in this dry, high altitude (I live at over 6300 feet.) is simply spectacular.  You notice the color in rocks, the differences in the green of different types of trees, or subtle changes in clouds.
• Without water, you come to appreciate it-- both its worth and its power.
• The dry atmosphere, high altitude, and clear weather make for the best and most dazzling skies anywhere.  The scope is big, the clouds are close, and the stars are limitless.
• The barrenness of the desert means that when things in the desert bloom, they do so spectacularly.
• God often uses the desert-- physically or metaphorically-- to produce mighty good things in us.  Christ, and many others in Scripture, were tempted or tried in a desert.  Suffering produces a kind of "desert effect" that yeilds much fruit in our lives.  Last Sunday we heard an excellent sermon on the gift of trials in our lives that was really convicting.  You can listen to it here.

So, I have grown to love and appreciate the desert-- a physical thing I saw little beauty and no benefit in when I moved here almost 30 years ago.  And spiritually, the desert of this world produces much fruit for those who have eyes to see it.  May we both keep our eyes peeled for the blooms in the desert, Gentle Reader.