Devotional

Sometimes the Best Gift is Nothing At All

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I’ve been working on a missions project lately with Global Partners, the mission arm of The Wesleyan Church, recently, and in many ways, my project has brought my grandmother to mind. My grandmother passed away on Easter of 2009, but left a legacy in her love for Christ and her heart for missions.

I never lived close enough to my grandmother to see her on a regular basis. There were many holidays spent together, and the occasional family reunion, but not the consistent contact that many grandparents have with their grandchildren. I don’t feel like I knew her well, or was especially close to her. But I do remember how I felt about her when I was small.

I remember as a child being annoyed that my grandparents didn’t shower me with gifts, or cash, or much in the way of tangible items compared to what many of my friends received. I got cards containing sentiments, but not cash. Presents, if any, were simple and wrapped in used paper. Every penny was counted, none were wasted. There was no cable television at their house. The air conditioner would not be turned on in the car. Even flushes of the toilet were carefully guarded. As odd as it may seem, that is what I remember most about my grandmother as I was growing up.

As an adult, and loving geriatric patients, I now understand a bit more about my grandmother, having gone through the Great Depression in her young adulthood. Being frugal had become a lifestyle that would not be erased over time. Her excruciating frugality was a difficult and chosen lifestyle, which I can now appreciate (even if I’m not as good at emulating it).

It wasn’t until her funeral that I found that there was even more to Grandma’s frugality. She gave sacrificially to missions, not just financially, but in hours spent at the typewriter writing letters. She took extra jobs cleaning boarding houses or picking berries to earn money for mission pledges. In fact, we found that my grandfather had saved money secretly for retirement, because if she had known about the money, my grandmother would have given it away, especially to missions.

Looking back through the lens of time, I realize that the birthday cards that didn’t carry cash, the simple Christmas gifts, the carefully counting of pennies weren’t because of a lack of love. They were because there were people around the world who needed what little money she had more than I did, and her few dollars helped to bring the gospel to those who needed to hear. How many souls is she meeting in heaven now because of her frugal generosity? I’m quite certain there is a long line because indeed, Grandma died rather penniless.

So Grandma, thank you for all the empty cards, the crumpled wrapping paper, and the meager gifts.

It was money well spent.

Bragging Rights

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A guest post by Ken

“As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work.” (John 9:4)

 

The best stories belong to those who took the risks.

In heaven there will be centuries of stories to tell. That may sound boring to you. Not me! Think about sitting there listening to Daniel talking about staring a lion in the face. Peter telling what it was like to step out onto the water. Mary as she entered the tomb to find it… empty.

I expect that plenty of us will be star-struck in heaven. Joan of Arc, Francis Xavier, Brother Lawrence, John Wesley, Amy Carmichael, Deiterich Bonhoeffer, Billy Sunday, Mr. Moody, Mother Teresa, George Whitefield, Sadhu Sundar Singh, Watchman Nee, Corrie Ten Boom, and that’s just to name a few.

Sadly, some of us will sit there in awkward silence. We won’t have much to talk about and only then will we realize that it’s too late. Never again, for all of eternity, will we be able to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, help the sick, or speak out in Jesus’ name. Our work is over.

I want to have PLENTY to talk about. I’m not special, but He still chose my hands and feet. I didn’t always get it right or even was obedient the first time, but I want to be remembered for trying my hardest and doing my best.

When I die, I want to be exhausted and broke. I don’t want to leave a thing behind me. Don’t even waste time with a funeral. If you have something to say to me, do me a favor: save it and tell it to me in heaven.

I want to take chances. I want to live a life that matters to the kingdom. I want to be generous with my time and my money.

When you get to heaven, if you want to be part of the celebration, then take the risks here on earth and someday you’ll have the best stories to tell.

May the God who gives you strength
      bless you and keep you in His will.
May you die exhausted, broke and with nothing left unsaid.
And may you live eternally with the knowledge
      that you did all you could, with all you had, for as long as you had!
 

A Tale of Two Tails

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A guest post by Ken

It’s interesting how Buddy & Holly’s personalities affect their perspectives.

Holly is the lead dog and she has to be in charge. She likes to stay busy. Whatever Buddy is playing with, she needs to have it – right now.

Buddy is the affectionate and laid-back one. He’s the snuggler. He follows his sister’s lead and is quite content with whatever comes his way. Except for squirrels – they still drive him nuts.

But both our dogs like to chew anything and everything: toys, sticks, shoes, towels, and furniture. So it only made sense when we had t-bone steaks to give the bones to Buddy & Holly. They each were given a bone to enjoy. Their responses were interesting to me.

First, I approached Holly, but as I drew near she tensed. Pulling the bone away and turning her back to me, her body language clearly said, “Please don’t take this away. I’m really enjoying this and I don’t want you to ruin it.” I was tempted to chastise Holly, “I don’t want your bone. I gave you that bone. I just want to be with you and make you happy.” 

I was cautious as I moved toward Buddy. I didn’t want to spoil his treat. But I didn’t need to worry for long. As soon as he saw me he crawled forward with the bone still in his mouth. His tale started wagging furiously. He proudly held up the bone in his mouth as if to say, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! This is so great! Would you like to have some? You gotta try this!”

Don’t get me wrong: both our dogs are great – even when they are running around the house with muddy paws. Yet the puppies reminded me of the importance of my outlook on life. I wish I were always like Buddy when God draws near: “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! God you are so great! Thank you for all you’ve done for me!” But in my honest but “less spiritual” moments I find myself afraid and agreeing more with Holly: “Lord, please don’t take the good things in my life away.” or “I’m really enjoying this moment God and I don’t want you to ruin it.”

Lord, forgive me for doubting your goodness. May I welcome you in and invite you to enjoy both the good and the bad in my life. Help me to trust you more. I realize that every good and perfect gift comes from you so… when I am chewing on a bone, may my tail always be wagging!

Hunting for Contentment

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I must admit, I love HGTV. I’m pretty sure what Ken is to hockey, I am to House Hunters. There are no car chases, risque scenes, profanity. Just household decor, real estate, and and down-home reality. Clean, guilt-free, family-oriented entertainment.

Right?

The only problem with HGTV is that it perpetuates a system of false beliefs.

You want more. You need more.You deserve more.

After watching families choose between homes with granite countertops, gigantic decks, and park-like landscaping, my house seems to feel, well, a bit small. A bit simple. And compared to the homes House Hunters International? Don’t even get me started.  I feel like we’re a candidate to be rescued by one of those TV shows where they arrive at your door, send you to Disney or a spa while they totally redo the inside of your house. I wonder how you apply for those things anyway . . .

And there goes my contentment. Lost in a sea of desires for what HGTV tells me I need to have.

I Timothy 6:6-10 NIV says, “But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.  But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.  For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”

And I see those temptations waiting to trap me. Trapped into a larger mortgage, so that we have no opportunity to be generous, even if we wanted to. Trapped in the desire for more things — nicer furniture, newer appliances, better floors, a finished basement. Trapped into needing to work more than we want to afford the stuff that fills our house to the point that we need a bigger house just for our stuff. More. More! MORE!

But the truth is more is never enough. There will always be one more thing to buy. There will always be another something that is nicer than the something that we already own.

More is never enough, until we declare God to be all that we need.

And maybe that means selling our possessions and moving into a ghetto in India. Or maybe it means living in a house that is less than what we could afford, so that we can work where we feel called to, not where we need to in order to pay our mortgage. Or maybe it could even mean someday living in a home featured in a magazine for its glory and grandeur.

But God gets to decide, not us, and I’m content with that.

Wrong Thinking

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A guest post by Ken

I have a bone to pick with David Platt, the author of Radical Together. Our church is going through his book during our Sunday school hour. Today we did chapter four, The Genius of Wrong. BUILDING THE RIGHT CHURCH DEPENDS ON USING ALL THE WRONG PEOPLE.

“Too often churches in America focus on performances, places, programs, and professionals. In Jesus’ simple command to “make disciples,” he has invited every one of his followers to share his life with others in a sacrificial, intentional, global effort to multiply the gospel through others. This includes not just the “right” people (our most effective communicators, most brilliant organizers, and most talented leaders and artists) but also the “wrong” people (those who are the least effective, brilliant, or talented in the church).” (Radical Together, Platt)

I guess my issue with David Platt is this: Who ever said that the pastors (professionals) are the “right” people?

If anyone thinks I’m the “right” kind of person, I would say to them, “wait until you get to know me.” I certainly don’t want to be on some pedestal. I know I don’t have it all together and I definitely don’t want to act like I do.

When David, a scrawny shepherd boy killed Goliath, a giant and professional soldier, no one thought that it was all David’s doing. They knew God had worked a miracle. And that’s the point. Basically the Bible is all about “wrong” people being used by God. Abraham, Moses, Gideon, and Jonah. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and very wrong!

And if God only uses “wrong”, then I don’t want to be “right”.

I know why God has called me to Hermitage Church. It’s to make a point. No one would ever look at my ministry and think, “those people are there because of that charismatic leader.” It’s silly to even think that.

One of the things that I love about our church is that those of us on staff are all the “wrong kind of people.” I love the pastors I work with and have nothing but the utmost respect for them, but we’re still “wrong” people and we all know it. Numerous times Pastor Howard has shared his story from the pulpit and has talked about his struggles and the challenges he has had to over come. I respect that and I love a pastor who can identify with those who are hurting or struggling. On more than one occasion, I have thought during one of his messages, “Wow, if God can use Pastor Howard, then I might just have a chance.” I appreciate that.

I get Platt’s point: it’s got to be more than a church staff doing all the work. But I just take issue with the assumption that he, or any one else thinks pastors are “right”. The first step in becoming a Christian is realizing “I’m not alright, and I can’t fix that on my own.” Heaven help us if somewhere along the way we think we don’t need Jesus anymore.  
 
If God only uses “wrong”, then I don’t want to be “right.”
 

What I Learned from Stan, the Ocoee, and a ‘Hole’ Lot of Water

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A guest post by Ken
 
The Ocoee River is not a place for beginners. It has a powerful and unforgiving current with large obstacles purposefully placed to instill fear and excitement. Recently I experienced both.
 
It doesn’t help that we put in and immediately experience a class four rapid called “grumpy”. I think I would have preferred it to be called something a little tamer like “Sneezy” or “Doc”.
 
I have done this annual trip four or five times before and every time I do it, I promise myself that this will be the last. 
 
As I stare at the first set of rapids thoughts and questions raced. “What have I got myself in to?” “I’m too old for this.” “How much river will I drink this year?” These doubts rattled around inside my rafting helmet and only served to make me a little more anxious.
 
It’s not that I am new to paddling. I grew up canoing and more recently have taken to kayaking (thanks Tom & Jake). But this is the Ocoee. It is to be respected. It was the site for the 1996 Atlanta Summer Games (whitewater slalom event).
 
The students with me grinned ear to ear. They seem genuinely excited to be doing this. I forced a smile and tighten my life jacket. 
What was it that they knew that I didn’t? Did they not know how big the rocks were, how powerful the current was or how much water can be drank in mere seconds? I am quite certain they were aware of all of these facts.
 
Then it dawned on me. I was only thinking about myself. I thought my life was in my hands. I knew I did not have nearly enough experience or skill to successfully navigate this aquatic ordeal. 
 
If I were in charge of the boat we were all doomed. 
 
Thankfully I was not the one in charge. There was another who would be interpreting the flow of the river and barking orders to help us safely navigate the hazards. Stan “the man” was his name. He had twenty-two years experience leading groups down the Ocoee River. Stan was not only our guide but the Trip Leader as well. He commanded all the boats that day. 
 
Once I was able to transfer my reliance off myself and onto Stan, I was free to enjoy the day. Suddenly, rapids that had looked menacing now were inviting. There was still a healthy sense of fear, but I knew as long as I listened to my guide and did my part, our boat would be fine. 
 
There were spills along the way, but Stan kept a cool head and we safely made it down the river.
 
Later as I reflected on how happy I was to be alive, I also thought about how the rafting experience was much like my life. When I think everything rests on my shoulders, fear and anxiety start to take over. But when I realize that there is someone greater than me who is in control and who has been through far worst, I can relax and trust in Him.
 
God is in control. He knows what the future holds and He has promised to be with me. There are still scary times or things that seem unfair or out of control, but none of those things catch God off guard. 
 
It might have been coincidental, but the final set of rapids we did that day was nick-named “hell hole”. Even after experiencing the mighty Ocoee for over an hour, they took my breath away. But interestingly enough, immediately following “hell hole”, the river widened and it grew calm. There on the other side of the river we would safely pull out boats out onto shore.
 
Perhaps that’s how life is meant to be. God prepares us for some of our greatest challenges so that we will learn to trust Him. And after going through all that this world has to throw at us, we experience the calm. We land on the far shore and have great stories to share. 
 
One of the things that I look forward to after this life is sitting down and hearing the stories. I am certain of this: the greatest stories will come from those who risked it all and trusted in a loving God. On that day, I want to have a story or two to tell about how God used me in spite of my fears. 

Dancing in the Desert

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Nashville has been hot and dry this summer. Our lawn is getting crispy, our landscaping is dying, and our garden has become a dried-up housing opportunity for all manner of insects. While we’ve not had the drought that other regions have had, Nashville has had one of the hottest summers on record, almost as if Nashville has turned into a desert.

Have you ever been called to the desert? Not the Mojave desert type, or the Nashville type, but a time of spiritual dryness: a time when God seems to remain distant and withhold directions, while sending frustrating circumstances all the same.

That is where Ken and I have been numerous times in the past, and even in the last year: searching without finding answers, sensing a call but having significant obstacles to overcome, and finding ourselves trudging along, wandering.

Wandering.

Wandering.

The desert has not just been hot and dry, but there have been stinging sandstorms along the way. Not only the losses of the children we have tried to adopt, but betrayal by those we had trusted, and hurtful comments from others that have come along the way. This year has been hard.

At times there have been oases, moments of refreshment and enjoyment: vacationing at the beach at Christmas, celebrating at Chick Fil A, finding food trucks to enjoy, the enjoyment of spending time with friends and family.  But lingering at an oasis would be a mistake. God did not intend for us to find our fulfillment at a pond and palm trees in the middle of the desert. He is calling us through the desert. Though we have no idea how long the journey will actually be, we pack up and move on, continuing to search for the way out.

At times the oases have just been mirages:  completing stages of paperwork, promises of children, pictures and names of little ones who were supposed to be ours. But when we finally crested the last dune, we realize that there is only more desert to come. And we muster the strength to wander some more.

I have never resented the God of the desert. Though difficult, I can accept the desert. I will walk where He has called me to walk. After all, He is God, and I am not. He is allowed to set me loose in a directionless desert if that is what He desires for me. I can accept that this is where God has called me to for this season of my life.

I know that God can give meaning to my time of wandering in the sun swept landscapes of barrenness, if He so chooses. Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest says, “If we are in fellowship and oneness with God and recognize that He is taking us into His purposes, then we will no longer strive to find out what His purposes are. As we grow in the Christian life, it becomes simpler to us, because we are less inclined to say, “I wonder why God allowed this or that?” And we begin to see that the compelling purpose of God lies behind everything in life, and that God is divinely shaping us into oneness with that purpose.” It has become less important to me to figure out why God has called us here, because I trust that He is shaping me into who He wants me to become. So I clench my jaw and set my forehead to the wind, and plod along.

The Psalmist David had his own times of wandering in the desert spiritually.

Psalm 63:1-3 NIV says,
“O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.

I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.

Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.”

David’s glorification of God during times in the desert is admirable. And I can echo those sentiments; I can yearn for God and seek Him in the desert. After all, He is my way out! I can even praise Him for being my way out. But glorifying God in the desert still doesn’t seem like all He has called me to.

I can endure the desert, I can be obedient in the desert, and I can yearn for Him in the desert, but can I find delight in the one who led me there?

That’s not so easy.

Finding my treasure in the One who leads me staggering through these dry and weary times? To look to Him through clouds of swirling sand and shout for joy over the roar of the dust devils that surround me? The words seem to be choked by the sand in my throat.

John Piper in What Jesus Demands from the World says,

“He did not die to make this life easy for us or prosperous. He died to remove every obstacle to our everlasting joy in making much of him. And he calls us to follow him in his sufferings because this life of joyful suffering for Jesus’ sake (Matt. 5:12) shows that he is more valuable than all the earthly rewards that the world lives for. If you follow Jesus only because he makes life easy now, it will look to the world as though you really love what they love, and Jesus just happens to provide it for you. But if you suffer with Jesus in the pathway of love because he is your supreme treasure, then it will be apparent to the world that your heart is set on a different fortune than theirs. This is why Jesus demands that we deny ourselves and take up our cross and follow him.”

Can I have everlasting joy in the One who lets me wander in the midst of the dry and dusty wilderness?

Yes.

I don’t want to love God in spite of the fact that He has led me into the desert. I want to love Him because He has led me into the desert. Love that is by force of will isn’t really love. John Piper again wrote, “Willpower religion usually fails, and even when it succeeds, it gets glory for the will, not for God. It produces legalists, not lovers.” If I merely endure the desert, I miss the opportunity to bask in the pleasure of knowing him now. I do not want to overlook the enjoyment of God today while waiting for the mirage in the distance to become real.

I want to desire Him more than the fruitful land on the other side of this desolate terrain.

So let the sand take off a few layers of skin. Let the dust devils howl, the sun beat down, and the mirages come and go. My life does not have to be easy, comfortable, or on even the other side of this desert for me to find my supreme treasure in Him.

I am learning to dance in the desert.

Cloudy with a Chance of Blessings

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Yesterday, the bright sunlight beat down on the South, leading to record-setting heat. There were few words to describe the atmosphere in Tennessee other than “oppressive.” Even at 9:00 p.m., long after the sun had set, its searing heat left a scorching 90 degree temperature.

Today, on the other hand, the sun was filtered by the clouds. The bright blue sky was cast in shades of gray, which filtered down to a humid blanket that laid over the landscape. The temperature was almost ten degrees cooler, as the radiant heat dissipated in the sifted sunlight. The clouds mercifully spared us from the sun we did not need!

While today the clouds seemed like a source of refreshment, clouds often don’t conjure such pleasant images. Clouds have long symbolized doubt, uncertainty, confusion. They suggest that storms are ahead, that darkness lingers nearby. But Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest reminds us that clouds have a distinct role in the spiritual realm.

“In the Bible clouds are always associated with God. . . It is through these very clouds that the Spirit of God is teaching us how to walk by faith. If there were never any clouds in our lives, we would have no faith. . . They are a sign that God is there. God cannot come near us without clouds— He does not come in clear-shining brightness.”

Experiencing God is not the absence of clouds. He is within the clouds, and they are an indication of His presence. I believe that His presence is often most profoundly felt in the times when clouds surround us. We find the true definition of our faith in times when everything else is clouded with uncertainty — our relationships, our work, our health, our finances. 

In those times, the clouds sequester us away from the things on which we have inappropriately become dependant. They hide us, not from Him, but with Him from all that would vie for our attention.

“It is not true to say that God wants to teach us something in our trials. Through every cloud He brings our way, He wants us to unlearn something. His purpose in using the cloud is to simplify our beliefs until our relationship with Him is exactly like that of a child— a relationship simply between God and our own souls, and where other people are but shadows.”

 I often want to run from the clouds in life, to pray for shelter against them, to avoid them at all costs. But perhaps the clouds in life are the very vapor of God’s sparing us from that which we do not need — anything else but Him.

Maybe the clouds really are refreshing after all.

It’s Beginning to Rain

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Indeed, a miracle was already on its way when we opened that referral on Monday night.

In my own doubt, I told Ken that either we had to stop the adoption process to raise money, or if we were to proceed, we needed money to start falling from heaven as a sign from God. The thunderclouds of doubt and fear were rolling across the skies of our hearts.

Within minutes, however, we found out that someone had already written us a check last week, and it was on its way.

Drip.

Shortly after, someone else offered to help us out financially as well.

Drop.

The next morning, we found out that money had already been sent to our adoption agency by someone who had no idea that we had such an urgent need.

Drop.

Another friend sent a message within a few hours after that she was feeling led by God to give as well.

Drip. Drop.

At that point, we had not even posted on this blog about our need. But God was telling me that I needed to. I really battled with God about posting  last night. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to ask people for money. But God reminded me that I wasn’t asking for money, that He was. I should never be ashamed or embarrassed to ask people to be a part of God’s Plan. In fact, I should feel nothing but joy for being a part of God’s prompting.

Since my post last night, our typical blog traffic has tripled, setting both a single post record, and a single day record.

Drip. Drop. Pitter.

Several more messages have been sent to us from people who are responding to God’s leading. He is at work.

Drip. Pitter. Patter. Drop.

To us, the outpouring has been a clear indication from God that we should continue to move forward. We are so thankful for those who have already helped us clarify God’s plan. You may not even realize it, but you have been the instrument of blessing and confirmation that we asked for from God. We still don’t know how exactly where the rest of the money is going to come from, but we trust the One who is going to provide.

Drip. Drop. Pitter. Patter. Drip. Drop.

We accepted the referral for the two children earlier this evening. We’re stepping out in faith, knowing that God is still calling others to walk this journey alongside us.  Are you one of them? Would you consider how God is asking you to be a part of His plan?

After all, it seems like it’s beginning to rain.

Love Unscheduled

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Five years ago, we brought two 8-lb Labrador retriever puppies into our home. They were a little bigger than the size of a bag of sugar, and perfect packages of puppy-smelling fuzzy love.

We gave them names that matched: Buddy and Holly. While they were from the same litter, they could not be any more different.

Buddy is 95 pounds of nap-loving, drooling bliss. He loves kisses, snuggles, and hearing his name. He wags his tail if I come within 15 feet of where he is. He wags his tail when I sneeze or smile. He wiggles and wags his tail when he falls off the bed, or when he runs in to trash cans while on a walk. He’s terrified of the sound of a fork on a plate, fireworks, and being in the kitchen. But his fears are balanced by his abundance of love. When we take him out in public, he beams with excitement with every new person he meets, as if the purpose of the existence of others is merely so Buddy can love them. He isn’t the most intelligent dog, but you won’t find one who is better natured, at least 98% of the time. The other 2% is in the morning when he first wakes up. He’s not exactly a “morning dog.”

Holly is much more the morning dog. She lies wide-eyed in wait for my alarm to go off in the morning, so that she can pounce on both Ken and I and lick us into a wakeful state before she attacks Buddy with the same enthusiasm – hence his grumpiness. Holly has no snooze button, and the word “Saturday” means nothing to her. She is incredibly easy to train, very intelligent, and we’re pretty sure she understands most of what we say. At times we are thankful that she doesn’t have opposable thumbs, because we’re fairly certain she would lock us out and have the house to herself. She is our “busy girl” and is very scheduled, knowing when it is time to wake, sleep, walk, eat, and even when she wants affection. She has specific times in the day that we are allowed to lavish affection on her, but she is not receptive if she’s not in the mood. Try to pet her or scratch behind her ears at the wrong time, and we’ll get a sneeze of disgust or she’ll merely leave the room. We believe she may be part cat.

Two different dogs from the same litter, and we love them both dearly.

At times, I see my relationship with God in my dogs. In all of my scheduling, discipline, and planning, do I leave enough time for spontaneous expressions of love for my Heavenly Father? Do I wiggle with delight when God’s presence is even near? While it is wonderful to have scheduled times of devotion and reflection, are those the only times of the day when I express my love toward God, and open my heart for His love toward me? I know it bothers me that I can’t lavish affection on Holly unless it’s the right time of day, or if she’s in the right frame of mind. I wonder if God is offended when I quarantine His presence to a designated time on my calendar.  It’s not that I don’t love Holly, it’s just that she makes loving her more difficult. How many times have I missed God’s expressions of love for me because I’m a “busy girl”?

The more I know and love God, the more I realize that the love of God will not be quarantined. Either I am open to Him, or I will miss out. And in response, I want to lavish reckless amount of love on God, as if the only reason for my existence was just to love Him.

Even if it’s not on schedule.