deadly perspective

I’ve heard this Bible story my whole life, and I can even sing it in a cute little song with hand motions.  “Twelve men went to spy on Canaan –ten were bad and two were good.”  Except the song gets faster every time you sing it, and I always have to drop out because I can’t keep up with the ten fingers –thumbs down –two fingers –thumbs up when it gets too fast. 

This weekend I was reading the story of the 12 spies for the umpteenth time, and I was shocked to read something I had never noticed before, something we don’t sing about with the grade school kids. 

All 10 spies who explored the promised land and came back with a bad report about it were “struck down and died of a plague before the Lord”.  (Numbers 14:36-37  NIV)   

What cute little hand motion do you use for that? 

God sent them in as spies to see a land that was “exceedingly good”, and they came back with only a vision of giants and impossible cities to conquer.  They were filled with fear, which they shared liberally with all their friends. 

A capital crime in God’s judgment.  Twelve men went to spy on Canaan, ten were dead and two were good. 

After reading this story with fresh eyes, I very quickly took stock of where God seems to be leading me and what perspective I have of it.  Paul says, “We live by faith, not by sight.”  (2 Corinthians 5:7)  I’m taking that a little more seriously today. 

As you scout out the tasks God seems to be putting in front of you, are you going in with eyes of faith or fear?  Answer carefully.

the pain of no

No matter where I turned yesterday I bumped up against God’s no in people’s lives.

No, there’s still no work.

No, you were not chosen.

No, your home life is not going to change any time soon.

No, you did not pass. 

By the time I crawled into bed I could not breathe with the weight of everyone’s pain pressed against me. 

This morning I woke up feeling the agony of it.  I cried out Lord, where is the comfort for all of these people? 

And as I lay in bed this is what he said: 

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”  (James 1:2-4  NIV)   

Pure joy was what I saw in the face of the young woman who showed me her engagement ring last night.  Pure joy was what I saw in the eyes of the adults who watched a few hundred kids walk into church on “crazy hair” night.  Pure joy was when I got to hold the roly-poly three-month-old boy with no bones yet –just an armful of baby-powder-smelling goodness. 

Isn’t completeness everything we’ve ever hoped for?  Don’t we long to wake up and actually have a day where we lack nothing in our souls?  If you knew that’s what your painful no was bringing to you, wouldn’t you open your arms and say yes to it?   

Yes, Lord.   

Welcoming in the pain, because there’s something you know.  The pain has a purpose.  It’s the test of faith, and if you can stick it out there’s everything you ever wanted on the other side of it. 

Rejoice, my friend who was not chosen. 

Rejoice, my friend when you go home to craziness and fighting.

Rejoice, my friend when you wake up and know you’re going to have to take the class over. 

And I will rejoice if I call up my medical transcription website and there’s no work again today.  I’ll just get down on my knees and say thank you to the Lord who cares about if I’m ever complete. 

do you despair?

Anne of Green Gables was the first chick flick Matt watched with me when we were dating.  He’s a good man. 

One scene from the movie preaches often to my mind. 

Says the orphan, Anne Shirley, to her new caregiver, Marilla, as she follows her up the stairs.  Can’t you even imagine you’re in the depths of despair? 

Marilla Cuthbert turns around sharply on the stairs and says firmly:  No I cannot.  To despair is to turn your back on God. 

Paul says to the disciples of Jesus, “Do not be anxious about anything.”  (Philippians 4:6  NIV)   

Back to God.  Face to the problem.  Ann Voskamp, in her book One Thousand Gifts, describes this way of living as atheism. 

Back to the problem.  Face to God.  This is discipleship. 

Which one defines you?

you do it

I feel extreme disappointment every time I get to this place in the story. 

Five thousand men and then some.  The end of the day.  Everyone is hungry.  The disciples tell Jesus to send the crowd away to go buy themselves food in the villages. 

Jesus says to them, “They do not need to go away.  You give them something to eat.”  (Matthew 5:14-16) 

You give them something. 

I wish they had said “Okay.” 

This is the ending I pretend:  Disciples looking around to see what resources they do have.  Disciples bowing their heads and praying, “Lord, umm, a few loaves of bread and some fish?  Can you do something with this to meet an ocean of need?”  Disciples passing out bread and fish.  Passing it out and passing it out.  One thousand fed.  Two thousand fed.  And so on and so on.  Laughing out loud as they just keep handing it out.  Because it’s ridiculous what God just did with the nothing they had.  Now that’s a good story.   

What does Jesus ask you to do that’s ridiculously huge and for which you know you are inadequate? 

You do that.

watch your language

The Flathead Electric Co-op Annual Meeting is not a really fun place to spend an entire Saturday morning, but that is where my daughter and I trudged off to at 8:30 last Saturday.  They were doing a drawing at the very end of the meeting for two $500 scholarships for graduating seniors, and we figured it was worth a few hours of our time to take a chance on her winning one of those.   

For the entire meeting I kept looking at the last line on the program that said “drawing for scholarships”.  We saw about a dozen cards in the drawing box.  Odds were good for her to win one. 

I remembered what I heard a woman say before she played a game once.  “Well, my strategy is to pray for luck.”  And I thought –can it be both?  Do prayer and luck go together? 

Should I pray for my daughter to be lucky in this drawing?  Do God and odds mesh?  

In Isaiah 48:17 God says, “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.” 

She didn’t win the scholarship. 

On the way home I told her, “It would be a really, really depressing life if all we had was luck.  Just beating the odds by chance.  Very depressing.” 

But we have God.

God directs.  Luck is random.   

God has a “what is best for you”.  Chance doesn’t care. 

God plans a specific way my daughter should go.  A specific college.  A specific way to pay for it.  A specific best plan for her in a specific direction. 

What do you hope for?  Do you speak of it with the language of luck or faith? 

would you step onto a magic carpet?

One of the most profound spiritual images I live by comes from Disney’s Aladdin. 

I know.  I’m 43.   

Aladdin looks at the princess, asking her to join him on the magic carpet.  She’s dubious, but he puts out his hand and says, Do you trust me?  

Is it safe?, she asks. 

He ignores the question and instead repeats his. 

Do you trust me? 

She looks him in the eye -not at the carpet hanging in mid air -in the eye.  Gauging who he is before saying yes and stepping on. 

Living in obedience to God is totally a magic carpet ride.  Not overly safe.  Rationally impossible.  And awesome. 

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and try not to think about how ridiculous climbing on a magic carpet is (Christy’s version).”  (Proverbs 3:5) 

Do you trust me?

the desk where things happen

I am at my desk, and right now the papers I’ve printed are all crinkled up because so much stuff was stacked in front of the printer when they came out.  There’s a battery sitting here, and I don’t know if it’s old or new.  There’s a pile of necklaces I used in my Bible lesson with the kids at church, and on the left is a stack of papers turned every which way that are probably important.  No one in their right mind would leave anything here for me to do.

My mom’s desk is pristine (and has probably been dusted more recently).  Tidy holders for everything.  Neat stacks.  There are a few square feet where you can see the actual desk itself.  If mom says, “Go put it on my desk and I’ll take care of it” she actually does.   

What does God’s desk look like?  Seriously?   

When my kids put something on my desk, they know they had better follow up and maybe throw out a “So, mom, did you take care of my…”  Is that what God is like? 

I always pretend I have this huge stack of anxiety in my hands, piled so high that I can’t even look over it.  And I walk up to God’s desk and plop it down so loud that everything rattles.  And I say, “Can you take care of all of this?”  And he says, “Sure.  Just leave it.” 

And by looking at his desk I know I can.   

“Plop all your anxiety on his desk (Christy’s version) because he cares about you.”  1 Peter 5:7

uncomfortable

Life is very uncomfortable right now.  My job just got cut in half, and gas prices are going up.  I believe God wants me to pursue writing, but I don’t know what I’m doing or where my efforts will end up.  My firstborn graduates this year.  An overwhelming amount of change in a short time.  Uncertain future no matter which way I turn. 

I’ve been memorizing Jesus’ words from Matthew 18:1-4.  “At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’  He called a little child and had him stand among them.  And he said:  ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.’” 

Unless you change. 

Tonight I will stand in front of 70 squirming grade school children and teach these words.  The girls hug me and tell me they like the shirt I’m wearing as they come in the door.  The boys come in loud and give me a fling of the head as a hello. 

Unless I change. 

Girls braiding each other’s hair.  Boys playing with whatever is in their hands.  I tell them stories about who God is. 

Unless I change.   

No one in this room is worried about gas prices or what job they’ll have when they grow up.  They’re not anxious about college tuition rates or the future of the economy.  They just want to know if I’m going to tell a good story tonight and how much longer till recreation.  They want me to know it was their birthday yesterday and that their friend is having a sleepover on Friday.   

They go and do what they’re told without giving it much thought, and they’re mostly concerned about having fun in the moment.   

I find myself saying, “Really, Lord?  It’s okay for me to trust you with all the grown-up stuff and I can just enjoy right now?”  This is one command that seems a little too good to be true.  Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to obey. 

the other side of impossible

The Highline Trail is at the top of Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park.  A single-file trail with a sheer drop-off on one side but one of the most breathtaking views on this planet.  Definitely not a place for anyone with the slightest fear of heights.  (Seeing mountain goats in the parking lot is a bad sign.)

And I’m standing on it in full panic.  Trying not to cry.  Shallow, rapid breathing.  I can’t do it!  I have been holding in check my fear of falling down the cliff for a good half mile of the hike already, and now I have to walk through a tiny waterfall that crosses the narrow path.  It’s literally only a few steps, but the rocks are slippery from the water, and I am terrified of falling.

This should make you laugh.  My husband and two children have already crossed easily and stand cheering me on from the other side of this massive waterfall that covers three feet of ground.  But I.  Cannot.  Move.

Impossible.  I’m very, very seriously considering turning around and heading back to the car.

Fighting the stomach-roiling panic, I finally reach for my husband’s hand (yes, it’s close enough to touch) and step across.  I make it to the other side. 

The Devil is the Father of lies (John 8:44).  He manifests himself as a cliff and water-covered rocks.

He is the You Can’t.

He is the Turn Back.

He is the You’ll Fall.

He is the "You can't write.  Why start a blog?  Who in the world would want to read your thoughts?  They'll think you're stupid.  You'll never go anywhere with your writing, so why even try.  Nobody but your mom is going to read it."

This blog post is written from the other side of impossible.

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength."  (Philippians 4:13)

what God is doing for you

She stands in the kitchen, slumped shoulders, after a long day of school.  I’m upset, she says.  In the last class of the day the teacher left the room, and she watched two bullies picking on a weaker student, jabbing him in the ribs with cruel laughter.  The guy cried, hurt by the bullies but then embarrassed at his own response.  Her tears come, and I didn’t even do anything about it.  I see the pain in her eyes –a tender heart that feels the wound someone else has received.  I tell her it’s not too late.

The next day she performs a valiant act and informs the teacher.

I open an old book and read about two women.  Widows –helpless and alone in a male-dominant society.  Reliant on the kindness or cruelty of men who might offer the women food from their fields.

They just happen to return to this small town at the beginning of barley harvest.  The younger just happens to land in the field of a kind and generous man.  That man just happens to be a relative who could redeem her.

So she proposes marriage.  Unconventional.  Hopeful.

And he promises he will do what she has asked, fills her shawl with six full scoops of barley, and sends her back to her mother-in-law.

Then come the most powerful words in the whole book of Ruth.  Meanwhile Boaz…

The guy goes home from school.  Humiliated.  Miserable.  Meanwhile…  When he sags into his couch at home he has no idea there is a young woman thinking about him in her kitchen.  He has no idea God has filled her heart with compassion.  He can’t see her tears on his behalf or know that she is about to take action that will affect his life.

Meanwhile Boaz…

God has orchestrated the homecoming of the widows.  Bringing them to a place of kindness and redemption and provision.  And many years from now Ruth’s small little name will be listed in the lineage of the Great Redeemer.

Naomi says to Ruth, “Wait my daughter, until you find out what happens.”  Waiting for Boaz to act.  Trusting in the good and generous character he has shown so far.

The Bible is full of meanwhile.  The Israelites face the Philistines and Goliath…meanwhile David.  The Ethiopian reads the Scripture in his chariot, not understanding…meanwhile Philip.  Saul encounters Christ and sits blind for three days…meanwhile Ananias.  God taking action out of the line of vision.

When we belong to God we can tell our story of struggle and pain, finishing with the words meanwhile God…  We pray about the unknown and then take Naomi’s advice to “wait and see what happens”.  We have no idea what action God is taking as we speak.

(See Ruth 3:18 and 4:1.)

sight unseen...continued

Why do children love pretending to be blind?

blind man’s bluff

pin the tail on the donkey
pinata breaking

My friend and I used to take turns –one with a blindfold and the other leading.  The game inevitably found me, the blindfolded one, walking into walls, tripping over toys, falling down steps.  I would say anxiously, Am I going to walk into anything?  Is there anything in front of me?  Do you promise you’ll tell me if there’s a step up or down?  Not a lot of trust in the leader and for good reason. 

Psalm 48:14 says, “For this God is our God for ever and ever; he will be our guide...”

But what kind of guide?

Sometimes I’m that kid again with the blindfold on.  God, will you let me trip?  Will you lead me part way and then get bored and leave me in the middle of nowhere?  Do you promise you’ll tell me if I need to make a step up or down?

On this day I slip my hand under his arm, but before we start walking I pause and squeeze his arm tight to make sure he's listening.  Okay, I’m trusting you.  

"Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall."  Psalm 55:22