Finale

I think it's finally over.

Death at a Funeral

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops

What if Your healing comes through tears

What if thousand sleepless nights

Are what it takes to know You’re near

What if the trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

Blessings, Laura Story

The day after the most heart-wrenching break-up of my life, I was spinning.  I was drowning in my emotions, suffocating from the pain and confusion.

I was driving alone on Poplar Avenue, a main street in Memphis, and before I knew it, I was turning left into a cemetery.

I parked my car and walked around on the neatly pruned grass, admiring the bundles of flowers at my feet and feeling the wind caress my face.  I was laden with grief, lacking hope, and saddled with sorrow.  God knew.

It was December then.  I watched discreetly from across the lot as a family decorated a Christmas tree for their departed loved one.   It wasn't too cold for a winter day, and as I sat, cuddled by the large roots of an old tree, I let God carry my heart.  The quietness resonated with my soul, eternity laying before me as a stretch of tombstones.  I remember the reflection I gained in that solitude.

For a long time I struggled to understand why God would let me—me, the daughter He is supposed to love unconditionally and deeply—feel so much pain.

The aftermath of a thousand funerals was before me, the image casted when crowds have faded, the families have said farewell, and when God cradles you completely and solely in His arms.

Matt Chandler said in a sermon, “Wise men walk into funerals and not only mourn but use those moments to look at their own lives and be introspective to see where they currently stand with God and life.  I’ve been to a lot of good parties, but it’s at the funerals I grew.”

He continues, “We see ourselves very clearly in times of agony.  Whatever our inequity is, it will surface.  It may be His very deep mercy to let these things be revealed so they may be changed, developed.”

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; and living should take this to heart (Ecclesiastes 7:2).

It is for that day that I am thankful.  I am thankful that God gave me the opportunity to grow before He returns.  I am such a mess, lost in this life, struggling to understand my purpose, His love, and how to serve Him in this world.  I am thankful for a loving God, who protects his children who love Him.

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.  In faithfulness he will bring forth justice (Isaiah 42:3).

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalms 34:18).

A Kind Word

A standard day at work, I stood behind the counter, helping customers.

One of our regulars smiled after the completion of his transaction, and, for seemingly no reason whatsoever, said, “If you could say a kind word to someone and give them positivity, wouldn’t you much rather do that than burden them with negativity?  Every interaction affords an opportunity for kindness.”

What he said holds much truth.  As stewards of Christ, our interaction with others can be the very catalyst for a change in their lives.  All it takes it a singular, distinct, opportune moment, as revealed in an e-mail of Max Lucado’s entitled Letter to a Friend:

Dear Friend,

I'm writing to say thanks. I wish I could thank you personally, but I don't know where you are. I wish I could call you, but I don't know your name. If I knew your appearance, I'd look for you, but your face is fuzzy in my memory. But I'll never forget what you did.

There you were, leaning against your pickup in the West Texas oil field. An engineer of some sort. A supervisor on the job. Your khakis and clean shirt set you apart from us roustabouts. In the oil field pecking order, we were at the bottom. You were the boss. We were the workers. You read the blueprints. We dug the ditches. You inspected the pipe. We laid it. You ate with the bosses in the shed. We ate with each other in the shade.

Except that day.

I remember wondering why you did it.

We weren't much to look at. What wasn't sweaty was oily. Faces burnt from the sun; skin black from the grease. Didn't bother me, though. I was there only for the summer. A high-school boy earning good money laying pipe.

We weren't much to listen to, either. Our language was sandpaper coarse. After lunch, we'd light the cigarettes and begin the jokes. Someone always had a deck of cards with lacy-clad girls on the back. For thirty minutes in the heat of the day, the oil patch became Las Vegas—replete with foul language, dirty stories, blackjack, and barstools that doubled as lunch pails.

In the middle of such a game, you approached us. I thought you had a job for us that couldn't wait another few minutes. Like the others, I groaned when I saw you coming.

You were nervous. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you began to speak.

"Uh, fellows," you started.

We turned and looked up at you.

"I, uh, I just wanted, uh, to invite…"

You were way out of your comfort zone. I had no idea what you might be about to say, but I knew that it had nothing to do with work.

"I just wanted to tell you that, uh, our church is having a service tonight and, uh…"

"What?" I couldn't believe it. "He's talking church? Out here? With us?"

"I wanted to invite any of you to come along."

Silence. Screaming silence.

Several guys stared at the dirt. A few shot glances at the others. Snickers rose just inches from the surface.

"Well, that's it. Uh, if any of you want to go … uh, let me know."

After you turned and left, we turned and laughed. We called you "reverend," "preacher," and "the pope." We poked fun at each other, daring one another to go. You became the butt of the day's jokes.

I'm sure you knew that. I'm sure you went back to your truck knowing the only good you'd done was to make a good fool out of yourself. If that's what you thought, then you were wrong.

That's the reason for this letter.

Some five years later, a college sophomore was struggling with a decision. He had drifted from the faith given to him by his parents. He wanted to come back. He wanted to come home. But the price was high. His friends might laugh. His habits would have to change. His reputation would have to be overcome.

Could he do it? Did he have the courage?

That's when I thought of you. As I sat in my dorm room late one night, looking for the guts to do what I knew was right, I thought of you.

I thought of how your love for God had been greater than your love for your reputation.

I thought of how your obedience had been greater than your common sense.

I remembered how you had cared more about making disciples than about making a good first impression. And when I thought of you, your memory became my motivation.

So I came home.

I've told your story dozens of times to thousands of people. Each time the reaction is the same: The audience becomes a sea of smiles, and heads bob in understanding. Some smile because they think of the "clean-shirted engineers" in their lives. They remember the neighbor who brought the cake, the aunt who wrote the letter, the teacher who listened…

Others smile because they have done what you did. And they, too, wonder if their "lunchtime loyalty" was worth the effort.

You wondered that. What you did that day wasn't much. And I'm sure you walked away that day thinking that your efforts had been wasted.

They weren't.

So I'm writing to say thanks. Thanks for the example. Thanks for the courage. Thanks for giving your lunch to God. He did something with it; it became the Bread of Life for me.

Gratefully,

Max

We never know whose lives we touch just by existing in them.  So, we are called exemplify the life of Christ, lighting the path for others as Christ lit our paths with his love.

You are the light of the world.  A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven (Matthew 5:14-16).

The Prince and the Paupers

Tonight I watched ABC’s special, Best in Film: The Greatest Movies of Our Time.  Tom Bergeron and his cohost revealed the top five movies in several genres.

In the animated series category, Snow White ranked among the five.  Premiering in 1937, it opened hearts to the realm of princesses.

When God created Eve, being a princess was instilled at the core of her heart.  Because women were made to complete our God-given counterparts, at the center of a princess is her desperate longing for a prince.  Just as God created Eve for Adam, Eve needs Adam.  This is why our longing is so strong, so captivating.  We’re looking for our balance.

There is a specific reason we long for princes.  Our hearts do not call for men who are unworthy.  A man is a man is a man is a man, but a prince represents a deeper character of morality, nobility, and honor.  The more relationships I have and the more men I date, my knowledge is ever-growing that I need to be careful, intentional, and cautious with whom I share my heart.  Not all men are princes.

Last Wednesday in our Bible study group, we read the parable of the pearl:

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls.  When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it (Matthew 13:45-46).

While this parable is specifically angled at the Kingdom of Christ, it also stands represent what women desire from men.  We want a firm patience, an appreciation of our beauty, and an ability to value us above all other pearls.  We need men to see the pearl inside the oyster.  I want to be the most valuable pearl to my man, never having to question his love, loyalty, or respect. 

We must keep in mind that while God calls us to love, He also calls us to be obedient, patient, and to treat our bodies as temples.  One day when I’m ready God will give me my prince, my husband here on earth I can love and respect, and tune that relationship into an ever-growing bond in Christ.

We are called princes and princesses, because our walks are supposed to model the true Prince.  So, single, happy, and grateful, I will give my love to the true Prince.  He is, after all, the only man who has given His life to save me.

Hungry

Here it is.

The quiet that I’ve been avoiding for the last three months.

It is in this quiet that all the lulled hurt comes rushing back for me to face.

How can he be over me?  How could he move on so quickly?  What does he really think of me?  What rumors is he spreading?  Where are the people who I spent the last year of my life with?  Where is the family I knew?  How is this all possible?  What about everything we had?  How can he not think of me?

In my heart, I know that none of my questions matter.  I hear God’s soft voice tenderly reminding me that He loves me.  It is His love only that matters.  Yet, God, I am still hurting.

Please take this pain away from me.  Please remove it.  Please heal me.  Please let me glorify You in all this overwhelming pain.  Heal my heart.  Let Your love overwhelm.  Please, please, please.  I beg You, God.  I know You are the only one capable of mending me.  I’m tired of running.  I’m exhausted.  I’m tired of the persecution, the loneliness, the betrayal, the hurt, the timidity, the sorrow.  It is the sorrow that has shattered me.  Please heal me, Lord.  Please take my heart away from this pain.

Broken I run to You for Your arms are open wide

I am weary, but I know Your touch restores my life

So I wait for You

So I wait for You

I’m falling on my knees

Offering all of me

Jesus, You’re all this heart is living for

Again to God

Ash Wednesday, the beginning.  Day one of forty.

Last year around this time I gave myself one goal.

No bread.

No cereal.  No bagels.  No rice.  No granola.  No donuts.  No pasta.  No…much of anything!  I denied myself for a full 40 days, failing twice.

This year, it is a much different story.  To self-medicate, attempting to self-heal, I haven’t been depending on God.  Instead, I have slowly fallen back into the world and have very much been living in it.

Listening and talking with God, He gave me direction for this year’s sacrifice.  He said, “Give up dining out in and from restaurants, secular music, swearing, and sarcasm.”

“These things,” I heard Him clearly, “have removed you from Me.  Instead of worshipping them, come back to Me.  Be again desperate for Me.”

As a jump start, a friend and I personally decided to fast yesterday.  We sacrificed eating, and I testify that it was only through God that I made it through.

Sitting through the second day of Lent, I am encouraged by God, my friends, and coworkers.

I look forward to the next 38 ½ days and what glory there will be of His to witness in that time.

Lord, keep me sensitive to Your Spirit that I may not fall into the spirit of worldliness and its lusts.

But what does it say?  “The word is near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart,” that is, the word of faith we are proclaiming (Romans 10:8).

Do not love the world or anything in the world.  If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him (1 John 2:15).

“Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go (Joshua 1:9).

An Olive Leaf

He slid his gift quietly in front of me.

I looked on in awe, hoping my mind could process this unfamiliar gesture.

I don’t know how much thought he put into the cup of coffee sitting before me, but how much it touched me was incalculable.  It had been years since any man had done something so thoughtful.

Weeks later, the same man arrived at my home, ready to escort me to church.

As I opened his car door, I was greeted by a sweet set of flowers sitting on the dash.

Simple, beautiful, small—but so much meaning.

There is much to be said for these tiny tokens of adoration.

These moments that touch my heart so deeply are gifts directly from God.  He loves us and wants us to be happy.

In Streams in the Desert, April 15, it reads:

It is the joy of His heart to do good to all His children…Are you able to genuinely say, from your knowledge of God and your relationship with Him, that He is indeed a beautiful Being? If not, let me graciously encourage you to ask God to take you to that point, so you will fully appreciate His gentleness and kindness, so you will be able to say just how good He is, and so you will know what a delight it is to God’s heart to do good for His children.

I will always remember the gifts I received from that man, mostly because I will remember the acute feeling of love that they brought.  It brings joy to my heart knowing that God wants us to be happy, and that He gives us moments where we tangibly feel His love upon us.

The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.  He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing (Zephaniah 3:17).

A Prayer

Dear God,

What are You instilling in my heart?  Where are You moving me?  Where am I to help?

In a time where I am completely devoting my heart to You, what is Your will?

Please make lit the direction of my path so that I may follow You.  Let my heart be guided by Your will and not by my self-serving, human desires.  Retire the wants of this world from my heart to Your hands and instead place righteousness and willfulness in its barren place.

You are my God.  I adore You.  I am humbled before You.  Your majesty, and power, and grace are beyond any description of appreciation.

I pray for Your will to be done.  I pray for my heart.  I pray for my struggling friends.  I pray for my enemies.  I pray we all continue to be touched by Your forgiving love.

In Your Son's name, I pray.  Amen.