Do you need encouragement?

It has been an interesting year as I work up the courage to be a writer.  This last week I went through a squall of self doubt, in which I asked God a kajillion times, Are you sure you want me to write?  Is this the direction you want me to go?  Could use some encouragement here. 

Then I went to a funeral Saturday, a really awesome one where the deceased pre-arranged to buy flowers for the guests to take home and requested a 50’s reception party with Elvis music, burgers, and root beer floats. 

It’s impossible to explain, but at the end of the funeral celebration some things were said and done that totally encouraged me to keep writing.  I could hardly keep from sobbing, not with grief for my friend but in being overwhelmed that God used her life to encourage me to live mine using the gifts God has given me. 

Then...

I sat down with my stacked-high burger at the reception, and an acquaintance from years past sat down across from me. 

She’s a writer.  I have one of her for-real published books sitting in my collection at home.   

Have you written any books lately? I asked.  And that got us started talking about writing.  Come to find out, she had needed some encouragement too and was deeply moved during the funeral service.   

We talked about how we so often feel like we have nothing to offer the world.  Like we’re losers and why try.  Satan’s lies.  What did God say to you during the service? she asked me.  We shared the encouragement God had spoken to us, and in saying it out loud to each other it became even more encouraging.

Then...

After the funeral, I returned a phone call to my aunt who lives far away, and at the end of the conversation she built me up with her words.  Told me how much she looks forward to my blog posts every day and how God uses my little words to encourage her heart. 

Then... 

I went to Bible study the next day, and someone spoke encouragement to me about another area of my life where I had being saying, Lord, are you sure you want me to do this?  Am I going the right direction?  Could use some encouragement here.  (You might notice a recurring theme of self doubt.) 

Are you in your own squall of discouragement?  Have you thought about asking God to encourage you?  I know He doesn’t always sweep us up out of our challenging pursuits and difficulties, but I’m convinced He really wants to encourage us in the middle of them.  Maybe you just need to ask, eh?  (Excuse the Canadianism.) 

“Ask and you will receive.”  (John 16:24) 

Why I love funerals.

I was a church pianist for a few decades, and now I’m a pastor’s wife (don’t those usually go together?)  So I’ve been to a ton of funerals over the years.   

Once I was talking to a friend in the church parking lot, and she informed me she wasn’t going to the funeral of one of our friends.  Funerals are so dark and sad, she said. 

I was shocked.  Dark and sad?   

I’m probably a weirdo, but there’s a funeral of a friend in a few hours, and I’m looking forward to going. 

This lady loved Jesus and knew she was dying soon.  She told my pastor husband she wanted the graveside service first and the party at the church second. 

The party at the church.  That’s how she described her own funeral service. 

LOVE.  IT. 

So here’s why I love a good funeral of someone who loved Jesus: 

1.     There’s usually free food afterward.  (I do have a shallow side.)

2.     It’s a woo-hoo-you-did-it celebration.  Life is hard, and someone who gets to the end deserves a cheer.

3.     All of the person’s weak, failing moments get swept away, and everyone pulls up all the reasons why they love this person.  And the grace of that moment is encouraging.  Maybe someday people will forget about the dumb, hurtful stuff I did and will just sift out the good stuff.

4.     Oh yeah, we don’t live forever.  Sometimes I forget life is a mist and need a reminder not to worry so much about earth stuff.

5.     I feel challenged, all the way down to my bone marrow, to live a good-epitaph life.

6.     I remember that Jesus and love are everything.  Once in the casket nothing else matters. 

The only thing I don’t like about funerals is that they make me jealous.  Make me miss Jesus so much, and I feel jealous that this person's hard life is done and she gets to enjoy Jesus already.  With each funeral I get more impatient with the waiting. 

“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.”  (Ecclesiastes 7:2  NIV) 

At your funeral, what do you hope people say about you?

Go to the ant!

I looked around my house and was feeling depressed by how far behind I was in everything.  Laundry.  Paying bills.  Running errands.  Dishes (always dishes!)  Picking up.  Sweeping.   

I was reading Ann Voskamp’s blog, and she was talking about starting writing at 9:30 p.m. after her six kids go to bed.  Then she gets up at 5:00 to go write again.  What? 

My problem is sleep.  I’ve been waking up early to write a blog post (thank you for reading my morning thoughts), but then I’ve been crawling back under a warm quilt to catch a few more hours of sweet slumber.  It’s summer, and it’s so nice not to have the routine of getting kids out the door to school with cold lunch in hand.  Sleep is nice. 

But my indulgence has been showing up around the house. 

Yesterday I tried something new.  I stayed awake.  Ignored grandma’s patchwork flannel goodness and kept moving instead.  And man did I get stuff done!  Kitchen cleaned and swept.  All errands run.  Found some kitchen counter.  Laundry caught up (can that really happen?)  Finances in order.  Aaaaaaaaaah. 

“Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!  It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.  How long will you lie there, you sluggard?  When will you get up from your sleep?”  (Proverbs 6:6-9  NIV) 

Admit it.  Is there a bit of sluggardness (I made that up) creeping into your life somewhere? 

deep loneliness

Last night I arrived at a huge party of friends and spent the first hour of it asking myself a question I’ve asked many times before, How is it possible to be surrounded by this many people and still feel this lonely? 

Please tell me you’ve felt this way before. 

You’re quiet, Matt said.  I couldn’t explain why.  Really good friends sitting to my right.  Really good friends sitting to my left.  But still this feeling of aloneness. 

Sometimes a good husband can’t fix it. 

Sometimes the best of friends can’t fix it. 

It’s this feeling of wishing for someone who knows me.  Knows how I’m feeling down deep.  Understands all the thoughts I’ve had all day.  Knows what would really make me happy in the moment, even though I don’t know even know what that would be. 

My soul turns to God. 

“How do you know me?” Nathanael asked.  Jesus answered, “I saw you…”  (John 1:48  NIV) 

There is a deep loneliness within me that can only be filled by the One who sees.  The One who knows. 

In the middle of a party, with good friends everywhere, the loneliness is a sweet invitation to come to Jesus. 

Where do you turn when loneliness hits?

worn thin

It was middle school, and after one month of summer band camp I was in line to make my debut with the marching band in the 4^th of July parade.  (Why anyone thought I could walk and play an instrument at the same time is beyond me.) 

We got in line early for the parade, so our band teacher told us we could sit down while we waited for things to get started. 

As I sat down I heard an unfortunate ripping of denim in the area of my back side.  A large ripping.  And it was about 15 minutes before the parade was about to start.   

I looked over at my friend in panic and described my situation to her. 

She said, My mom’s over there in the car!   

With my friend following ever so closely behind me, we made our way over to her mom, who quickly pulled out a sewing kit from her purse (I hope no child ever comes to me with such a need), cut a strip of material off the leg of my pants, and promptly sewed patchwork over my behind while I laid across her lap in the car.  I made it back to my place in line with the band just in time for the parade to start. 

That’s us –sometimes in one moment discovering a place in our lives that has been wearing thin, but we don’t realize it until there’s a gaping rip that leaves us exposed. 

Here’s good news and a silly rhyme for the 4^th of July.  God does patchwork on the fly.    

“The Lord…has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted.”  (Isaiah 61:1)